"No, dear father, indeed I cannot."
"And you know not either, why my joy at welcoming you to-day exceeds that I have hitherto experienced?"
"Father, I beseech you, explain to me the purport of all these strange inquiries; you know not how they pain me—but, gracious Heaven, you weep—father, dearest father, what mean these tears?"
"Can you not guess? can you not perceive that they flow from joy—oh, yes, heartfelt, overwhelming joy."
"Oh, so much the better."
"My child, the trial has been a severe one."
"What trial do you speak of?"
"It cost me so much, old and infirm as I am, to pass my days alone; I, who from the hour of your birth had never passed a morning or evening without embracing you,—you who absorbed the love that was once shared between you and your mother, think what a painful thing it must be for me only to see you for a few hours each week, and to lose sight of you for months together."
"Dearest father, be assured that I suffered equally with yourself."
"That is not all; the time you passed here, while your husband was in Italy, rendered our separation still more painful; it was like losing you a second time."