"I left them to better my fortune," he continued. "They were so helpless and I so poor; but I did what I thought best. Last night I saw them in my dreams, her great bright eyes all red with weeping, and my baby's warm little hands were again about my neck imploring me to come home in accents so pathetic and sweet, they melted my heart. My blue-eyed Robert was no longer gay, but melancholy. O God, give me the wings of a dove that I may go and see them again!"
His head fell on the table and his whole frame shook with emotion, while Blanche, with her own sad beautiful eyes swimming in tears, could not utter a word of consolation. When he had partially recovered she asked:
"Why did you not tell me this before, you might have had my sympathy all along."
"I did not care to burden you with my griefs."
"Trust in God."
"I do; but this dark uncertainty; my helpless children."
"They have their mother."
"She is unpractical, knows nothing of life and is as helpless as the children. The little money left her has been spent long before this, and they are--Heaven only knows what ills they may endure. So long as I was with them, I shielded them from the rude blasts of the world; but now they are without a protector."
[Illustration: BLANCHE COULD NOT UTTER A WORD OF CONSOLATION.]
Overcome with the sad picture he had created in his mind, he buried his face again in his hands. Once more Blanche sought to soothe his cares by assuring him that He who watched the sparrow's fall would in some way care for his loved ones at home.