Lena's Father

Two or three days before the morning of which we have spoken, Uncle
Timothy, who like many of his profession had been guilty of a slight
infringement of the "Maine" liquor law, had been called to answer for
the same at the court then in session in the village of Canandaigua,
the terminus of the stage route. Altogether too stingy to pay the
coach fare, his own horse had carried him out, going for him on the
night preceding Durward's projected meeting with 'Lena. On the
afternoon of that day the cars from New York brought up several
passengers, who being bound for Buffalo, were obliged to wait some
hours for the arrival of the Albany train.

Among those who stopped at the same house with Uncle Timothy, was our
old acquaintance, Mr. Graham, who had returned from Europe, and was
now homeward bound, firmly fixed in his intention to do right at
last. Many and many a time, during his travels had the image of a
pale, sad face arisen before him, accusing him of so long neglecting
to own his child, for 'Lena was his daughter, and she, who in all her
bright beauty had years ago gone down to an early grave, was his
wife, the wife of his first, and in bitterness of heart he sometimes
thought, of his only love. His childhood's home, which was at the
sunny south, was not a happy one, for ere he had learned to lisp his
mother's name, she had died, leaving him to the guardianship of his
father, who was cold, exacting, and tyrannical, ruling his son with a
rod of iron, and by his stern, unbending manner increasing the
natural cowardice of his disposition. From his mother Harry had
inherited a generous, impulsive nature, frequently leading him into
errors which his father condemned with so much severity that he early
learned the art of concealment, as far, at least, as his father was
concerned.