He
gazed upon that transparent brow, as if he would read some secret in
its pellucid veins; and touched those long locks of golden hair with a
trembling finger, that seemed to be wildly seeking for some vague and
miraculous proof of inexpressible identity. The fair creature had
called him 'Father.' His dreaming reveries had never pictured a being
half so beautiful! She called him 'Father!' Tha word had touched
his brain, as lightning cuts a tree. He looked around him with a
distracted air, then gazed on the tranced form he held with a glance
which would have penetrated her soul, and murmured unconsciously the
wild word she had uttered. She called him 'Father!' He dared not think
who she might be. His thoughts were wandering in a distant land;
visions of another life, another country, rose before him, troubled
and obscure. Baffled aspirations, and hopes blighted in the bud, and
the cherished secrets of his lorn existence, clustered like clouds
upon his perplexed, yet creative, brain. She called him, 'Father!' It
was a word to make him mad. 'Father!' This beautiful being had
called him 'Father,' and seemed to have expired, as it were, in the
irresistible expression. His heart yearned to her; he had met her
embrace with an inexplicable sympathy; her devotion had seemed, as it
were, her duty and his right.
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