There
was a brisk fire, and over it hung the kettle--the same kettle as
then. There were on the walls the same pictures, with the ruddy
fingers of the fire-gleam playing upon them and illuminating them in
the same pathetic way, and in front of the fire sitting upon the same
chair, was a youthful female figure--not Winnie's figure, taller than
hers, and grander than hers--the figure of Sinfi, her elbows resting
upon her knees, and her face sunk meditatively between her hands.
After standing for fully half a minute gazing at her, I went up to
her, and laying my hand upon her shoulder, I said, 'This is a good
sight for the Swimming Rei, Sinfi.'
At the touch of my hand a thrill seemed to dart through her frame;
she leaped up and stared wildly in my face. Her features became
contorted by terror--as horribly contorted as Winnie's had been in
the same spot and under the same circumstances. Exactly the same
terrible words fell upon my ear:--
'Let his children be vagabonds and beg their bread: let them seek it
also out of desolate places.
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