He would go to the western window of his study and look
at the solitary mound with the marble slab for its head-stone. After his
grief had had its way, he would kneel down and pray for his child as one
who has no hope save in that special grace which can bring the most
rebellious spirit into sweet subjection. All this might seem like
weakness in a parent having the charge of one sole daughter of his house
and heart; but he had tried authority and tenderness by turns so long
without any good effect, that he had become sore perplexed, and,
surrounding her with cautious watchfulness as he best might, left her in
the main to her own guidance and the merciful influences which Heaven
might send down to direct her footsteps.
Meantime the boy grew up to youth and early manhood through a strange
succession of adventures. He had been at school at Buenos Ayres,--had
quarrelled with his mother's relatives,--had run off to the Pampas, and
lived with the Gauchos;--had made friends with the Indians, and ridden
with them, it was rumored, in some of their savage forays,--had returned
and made up his quarrel,--had got money by inheritance or otherwise,--had
troubled the peace of certain magistrates,--had found it convenient to
leave the City of Wholesome Breezes for a time, and had galloped off on a
fast horse of his, (so it was said,) with some officers riding after him,
who took good care (but this was only the popular story) not to catch
him.
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