The day was much like
that other day when Victor alone sat with him, save that the south
wind stealing through the casement was warmer, more fragrant than
the breath of May had been. The robin was not now singing in the
maple tree, but it would come home ere long, and Richard knew full
well the chirping sounds which would welcome its approach. Once he
had likened himself to the mated robin, but now, alas, he knew he
was but the wounded bird, who finds its nest all desolate, its
hopes all fled--I'm a tough old owl," he said, smiling bitterly as
he remembered when first he used that term. Edith was right; she
could not mate with the owl, he thought, just as Arthur stepped
across the threshold, and Edith came flipping down the stairs.
"Sit on a stool at my feet, as you used to do," Richard said to
her; "and you, Arthur, sit by me upon this sofa."
They obeyed him, and after a moment he began, "I have sent for you
my children, not to inflict pain, but to remove it. Heaven forbid
that through me you should suffer longer, or that any act of mine
should embitter your young lives.
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