"Your mother," he said "was a Swede by birth, and her marvellous
beauty first attracted your father, whose years were double her
own."
"I'm so glad," interrupted Edith, "As much as twenty-one years
older, wasn't he?"
"More than that," answered Richard, a half pleased, half bitter
smile playing over his dark face, "Forgive me, darling, but I'm
afraid he was not as good a man as he should have been, or as kind
to his young wife. When I first saw her she lived in a cottage
alone, and he was gone. She missed him sadly, and her sweet voice
seemed full of tears as she sang her girl baby to sleep. You have
her voice, Edith, and its tones came back to me the first time I
ever heard you speak. But I was telling of your father. He was
dissipated, selfish and unprincipled,--affectionate and kind to
Petrea one day, cold, hard and brutal the next. Still she loved
him and clung to him, for he was the father of her child. You were
a beautiful little creature, Edith, and I loved you so much that
when I knew you had fallen from a bluff into the river, I
unhesitatingly plunged after you.
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