"Yes."
"Who am I?"
"Papa."
"Are you glad to see me?"
"Yes."
"You're not!", replied the disappointed parent, relaxing his hold, and darting a vindictive glance at me.
Arthur, thus released, crept back to me and put his hand in mine. His father swore I had made the child hate him, and abused and cursed me bitterly. The instant he began I sent our son out of the room; and when he paused to breathe, I calmly assured him that he was entirely mistaken; I had never once attempted to prejudice his child against him.
"I did indeed desire him to forget you," I said, "and especially to forget the lessons you taught him; and for that cause, and to lessen the danger of discovery, I own I have generally discouraged his inclination to talk about you;—but no one can blame me for that, I think."
