Sigh on! they seem to say,
Sigh on, sad heart, to the night,
For the world is cold and gray,
And life has no delight.’”
He listened with his head on his arm but the wind had lulled for the moment, and the strangely human shriek he had heard began to affect him very unpleasantly.
“Was it really the wind?” he began to ask himself, wondering if it might not be an hysterical shriek of his rebellious daughter.
“Poor little Cinthia, God help her!” he uttered, sadly, and rising from his bed, began to dress hurriedly. “I will go and see if there is anything wrong,” he muttered.
He had been very angry when he returned at dusk from his strange interview with the scornful Mrs. Varian, and heard from his worried sister about the flowers and candy she had taken up to Cinthia.
“How is my little girl now?” he asked, anxiously, and started when she replied:
“She is in a dreadful temper, and when I took up the flowers and candy you sent her, she ordered me to throw them away.”