The
unhappy father clasped his hands together on perusing the letter, and
exclaimed--
"Must my poor babes be parted?--shall they be brought up to hate each
other? Oh Maria! would that I had died with you, and our children also!"
To take them to India with him, where a war was threatened, was
impossible, and his heart revolted from the thought of leaving them in
this country with strangers. At times he was seen, with an infant son on
each arm, sitting over the stone upon the grave of their mother which he
had reared to her memory, kissing their cheeks and weeping over them,
while they smiled in his face unconsciously, and offered to him, in
those smiles, affection's first innocent tribute. On such occasions
their nurse stood gazing on the scene, wondering at her master's grief.
Morris, of Morris House, reluctantly consented to take one of his
grandchildren under his care; but at the same time he refused to see his
son previous to his departure.
The widowed father wept over his twin sons, and invoking a blessing on
them, saw their little arms sundered, and each conveyed to the houses of
those who had undertaken to be their protectors, while he again
proceeded towards India.
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