No such train of reasoning occurred to him.

He had thought Sissy was good and unfortunate; he had found her fortunate and guilty of an almost greater degree of callousness than he could forgive; but, nevertheless, Sissy was the person he loved--his little girl, whom he had brought up, his big girl, in whom he centred all his hopes of happy home and of years of mature affection.

Sissy was still alive, and he could not endure to think of her living on wholly separated from him.

For this reason his mind had no rest in the thought of remaining where he was, or of returning whence he had come, or in the dream of seeking new places.

He could think of no satisfaction except that of being near to her and making her a better girl; yet he had promised to have no dealings with her; and not only that, but he now at length perceived the futility of all such care as he might exercise over her.