It is questionable whether his
love for his own children was a purer passion. Older, by several
years, than Edith, she had been to him more companionable; and had
ever greeted his return at evening with warmer expressions of pleasure
than were manifested by Edith, or the two younger children who had
been added to the number of his household treasures.
On this evening, as Claire drew nearer and nearer to his home, and
his thoughts began to make pictures of the scene within, its light
and warmth penetrated his feelings, and when he opened, at length, the
door, he was himself again.
First to bound into his arms was Fanny Elder. What a beautiful,
fairy-like creature she was! How more than fulfilled the promise of
her early childhood! Next came Edith, now six years of age, side by
side with her brother Harry, a wild little rogue, and were only a few
seconds behind Fanny in throwing themselves upon their father; while
little baby Mary, as she sat on the carpet, fluttered her tiny arms,
and crowed out her joyous welcome.
What a merry romp they all had for the next two or three minutes.
When quiet came back again, baby was sitting on one knee, Harry on the
other, and Fanny leaning her face on the shoulder of her "father"--for
so she called him with the rest--while her glossy curls were resting
in sunny clusters upon his bosom.
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