"You came to town alone, Marian?" he asked in a low voice.
The old man was in a doze at this moment, lying with his pinched withered
face turned towards his granddaughter, his feeble hand in hers.
"Yes, I came alone. My husband had not come back, and I would not delay
any longer after receiving your letter. I am very glad I came. My poor
grandfather seemed so pleased to see me. He was wandering a little when I
first came in, but brightened wonderfully afterwards, and quite
understood who I was."
The old man awoke presently. He was in a semi-delirious state, but seemed
to know his granddaughter, and clung to her, calling her by name with
senile fondness. His mind wandered back to the past, and he talked to his
son as if he had been in the room, reproaching him for his extravagance,
his college debts, which had been the ruin of his careful hard-working
father. At another moment he fancied that his wife was still alive, and
spoke to her, telling her that their grandchild had been christened after
her, and that she was to love the girl. And then the delirium left him
for a time, his mind grew clearer, and he talked quite rationally in his
low feeble way.
"Is that Mr. Fenton?" he asked; "the room's so dark, I can't see very
well. She has come to me, you see. She's a good girl.
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