“It is a heavy blow.”
“Ah! none but a father’s heart can feel how heavy such a blow is. She was my only child, sir; the pride of my old age, and now she is taken from me. I am but an old and withered oak; the support and love that bound me to earth is gone, and I care not how soon I receive the summons that bids me appear before the Great Commander above!” The tone in which the old man spoke would have touched almost any heart and made it sympathize with his sorrow. But, the heart of the dark-faced stranger only thrilled with fierce joy as he listened to the words of the old man.
“Your only child, I think you said?”
“Yes,” replied Treveling, in wonder, “my only child!”
“How is that? If my memory does not deceive me, in the old time, when I served under you, you had two daughters.”
“Yes, you are right,” replied Treveling, “but the elder of the two, my bright-eyed Augusta, strayed into the woods one day and never came back. She was but a child then; and now the other, my Virginia, she, too, is gone, and in the self-same manner as her sister. That is what makes the blow more terrible.”
“You never discovered any traces of the first?”
“No,” Treveling answered, sadly.
“And now no traces of the second?”
“You speak only the cruel truth.”