He sat silent, his face averted, his head bowed upon his hands.
She waited a moment, then spoke again.
"Your child, Horace?"
"She is at Viamede with the guardian."
"And you have never seen her?"
"No."
"Oh how can you bear it? doesn't your heart yearn over her? don't you long to have her in your arms?"
"No; why should I? she robbed me of her—my darling wife."
"But you do not know that? and certainly it was innocently, if at all."
"That has always been my feeling."