"God bless the child! No, no, precious one!" he added; "don't fear him. Plead for your father--plead for your home. Your petition must prevail! He cannot say nay to one of the little ones, whose angels do always behold the face of their Father in heaven. God bless the child!" added the stranger, in a choking voice. "O, that the father, for whom she has come on this touching errand, were present now! If there were anything of manhood yet left in his nature, this would awaken it from its palsied sleep." "Papa! O, papa!" now cried the child, stretching forth her hands. In the next moment she was clinging to the breast of her father, who, with his arms clasped tightly around her, stood weeping and mingling his tears with those now raining from the little one's eyes. What an oppressive stillness pervaded that room! Jenks stood subdued and bewildered, his state of mental confusion scarcely enabling him to comprehend the full import of the scene. The stranger looked on wonderingly, yet deeply affected. Quietly, and with moist eyes, the two or three drinking customers who had been lounging in the bar, went stealthily out; and the landlord, the stranger and the father and his child, were left the only inmates of the room. "Come, Lizzie, dear! This is no place for us," said Leslie, breaking the deep silence. "We'll go home." And the unhappy inebriate took his child by the hand, and led her towards the door. But the little one held back. "Wait, papa; wait!" she said. "He hasn't promised yet. O, I wish he would promise!" "Promise her, in Heaven's name!" said the stranger. "Promise!" said Leslie, in a stern yet solemn voice, as he turned and fixed his eyes upon the landlord. "If I do promise, I'll keep it!" returned Jenks, in a threatening tone, as he returned the gaze of Leslie. "Then, for God's sake, _promise!_" exclaimed Leslie, in a half-despairing voice. "_Promise, and I'm safe!_" "Be it so! May I be cursed, if ever I sell you a drop of drinking at this bar, while I am landlord of the 'Stag and Hounds'!" Jenks spoke with with an angry emphasis. "God be thanked!" murmured the poor drunkard, as he led his child away. "God be thanked! There is hope for me yet." Hardly had the mother of Lizzie missed her child, ere she entered, leading her father by the hand.