She could only listen eagerly,
breathlessly, while he spoke. His words, faltering and confused though
they were, were words of endearment which she had never heard from him
before; they were words which no mother had ever pronounced beside her
infant bed, and they sank divinely consoling over her heart, as messages
of pardon from an angel's lips.
Gradually Numerian's voice grew calmer. He raised his daughter in his
arms, and bent wistfully on her face his attentive and pitying eyes.
'Returned, returned!' he murmured, while he gazed on her, 'never again
to depart! Returned, beautiful and patient, kinder and more tender than
ever! Love me and pardon me, Antonina. I sought for you in bitter
loneliness and despair. Think not of me as what I was, but as what I
am! There were days when you were an infant, when I had no thought but
how to cherish and delight you, and now those days have come again. You
shall read no gloomy task-books; you shall never be separated from me
more; you shall play sweet music on the lute; you shall be all garlanded
with flowers which I will provide for you! We will find friends and
glad companions; we will bring happiness with us wherever we are seen.
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