How should he know his father? When we parted,
From the soft cloud which mantles infancy,
His soul, just wakening into wonder, darted
Its first looks round. Him follow’d one, the bride
Of my young days, the wife how loved and tried!
Her glance met mine—I could not speak—she started
With a bewilder’d gaze—until there came
Tears to my burning eyes, and from my lips her name.
XXVII.
She knew me then! I murmur’d “Leonor!”