"Father has got out of bed," she gasped out, "and insists on going
on with his alchemy. Will it kill him?"
"Not exactly," I answered coldly. "It were better that he kept
quiet, so as to avoid the chance of inflammation. However, you
need not be alarmed; his burns are not at all dangerous, although
painful."
"Thank God! thank God!" she cried, in the most impassioned accents;
and, before I was aware of what she was doing, she seized my hand
and kissed it.
"There, that will do," I said, withdrawing my hand; "you are under
no obligations to me. You had better go back to your father."
"I can't go," she answered. "You despise me--is it not so?"
I made no reply.
"You think me a monster--a criminal. When you went home last
night, you were wonderstruck that so vile a creature as I should
have so fair a face."
"You embarrass me, madam," I said, in a most chilling tone. "Pray
relieve me from this unpleasant position."
"Wait. I cannot bear that you should think ill of me. You are
good and kind, and I desire to possess your esteem. You little
know how I love my father.
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