Her father returned his thanks with every evidence of love
and contentment.
Marguerite's birthday was now at hand. When she awoke one morning, she
found the window-sills filled with potted geraniums, her favorite
flowers, and a beautiful canary bird hanging above them in a pretty
golden cage. The bird exactly resembled the one which she had had at
home. She thanked her father in the tenderest tones for his selection.
"Take these simple gifts, my child, for at present I can give you no
more."
Richard now served dinner and all seemed once more to be bright and
happy. When the meal was ended, the Count drank to the health of his
daughter and his absent wife and son. "I wonder, my child," said he to
Marguerite, "where your mother and brother are this day, and how they
are celebrating your birthday? What has befallen them? I always had a
happy heart; but now I often have many troubled hours. I fear--I fear."
Marguerite threw her arms about her father's neck and tried to reassure
him. "Be comforted, dear father," said she. "We shall be brought
together again, for surely God cares for us."
"Yes, that is true," he said, and dried his eyes.
All was silent. It was a deep, solemn, soul-stirring moment.
All at once the canary bird began to sing a song--the song which father
and daughter recognized at once as the one which the Count had composed
and taught his children. No one else had ever heard it or played it.
Marguerite clapped her hands and shouted: "What can this mean! That is
the first piece that you taught us, dear father.
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