And while he did so his heart yearned to speak to her, and to see by her face that she could hear.
Let it be but one word, only one, that she might know her father's voice--for she had never once heard it--and answer it with a smile.
"Daughter! My dearest! My darling." Only this, nothing more! Only one sweet word of all the unspoken tenderness which, like a river without any outlet, had been seventeen years dammed up in his breast.

But no, it could not be.

He must not speak lest her face should frown and her arms be drawn away.

To see that would break his heart.

Nevertheless, he wrestled with the temptation.
It was terrible.