They
seemed to be busy about something which he could not make out.
Suddenly, while his eye roved over the scene, it was struck by some
fluttering color at the open window of the old house. He had not
noticed this before. He now looked at it attentively. Before long he
saw a figure cross the window and return. It was a female figure.
The sight of this revived all that agitation which he had felt before,
but which had been calmed during the severe efforts which he had been
putting forth. There was but one thought in his mind, and but one
desire in his heart.
His wife.
He crouched low, with a more feverish dread of discovery at this
supreme moment, and a fiercer thirst for some further revelation which
might disclose what he suspected. His breathing came thick and hard,
and his brow lowered gloomily over his gleaming eyes.
He waited thus for some minutes, and the figure passed again.
He still watched.
Suddenly a figure appeared at the window. It was a young girl, a
blonde, with short golden curls. The face was familiar indeed to him.
Could he ever forget it? There it was full before him, turned toward
him, as though that one, by some strange spiritual sympathy, was aware
of his presence, and was thus turning toward him this mute appeal. Her
face was near enough for its expression to be visible. He could
distinguish the childish face, with its soft, sweet innocence, and he
knew that upon it there was now that piteous, pleading, beseeching
look which formerly had so thrilled his heart.
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