He forgot the carefully cultivated philosophy which for so many years had helped him towards forgetfulness.

So he sat until the sound of their voices upon the lawn recalled him to the present.
"I will leave you to have your talk with uncle," Clara said.

"Afterwards I will come back to you.

There he is, sitting under the cedar tree." The girl came swiftly over to his side.

For a moment the compassion which he had always felt for her swept away the memory of his own sorrow.