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Updated: May 24, 2025
"Den dat all right." "Truly 'a wise son maketh a glad father," I observed. Donino knitted his brows, and grumbled a puzzled but polite assent. I saw signs of reflection afterward, however, which warned me not to be too sure that I knew exactly where the limits of the little understanding were. But one thing was evident. The boy was being educated on the principle of repent and have done with it.
It is a long time now since I saw you frown and walk out of the room, Don." "It is a long time since you attempted to sit upon me," I said. "I am afraid I neglect you," she answered apologetically; "you see, Donino requires so much of my time."
Following these days there came a time of perfect peace for both of us, Evadne's health was satisfactory; she led the life she had planned for herself; and so long as she shut out all thought of the wicked world and nothing occurred to remind her of the "awful needless suffering" with which she had become acquainted in the past, she was tranquilly happy. Donino rapidly grew out of arms.
That duty once accomplished must have relieved her mind satisfactorily with regard to a Christian name for him, for she has insisted on calling him by the heathen appellation of Donino ever since, for the flattering reason that his temper when thwarted is exactly like mine.
Sir Shadwell Rock was staying with us at the time, and my daughter was creeping from her mother to him as we entered the room, and receiving a large share of his attention. Donino glanced at him, fearing, perhaps, that his presence as audience would make matters more unpleasant for me. "Mumme," he said, "dad's turn." Evadne looked up inquiringly. "I've come to say I am sorry," I exclaimed.
I am never quite sure whether to count you as a child or not." "Now, I call that a mean little score," she said, carrying her baby off with an affectation of indignation which deceived Donino.
Sir Shadwell went out into the grounds, and there I found him later, patiently instructing Donino in the difficult art of stringing a bow, his white head bowed beside the boy's dark one, and his benign face wrought into wrinkles of intentness. I was busy during the afternoon, but I fancied I heard the carriage return.
It was not long, however, happily, and a propos of the number of my responsibilities, I was taken to task severely one day, and discovered that I had in my son a staunch supporter and a counsellor whose astuteness was not to be despised. I was finishing my letters one afternoon in the library when Evadne came in with her daughter in her arms, and Donino clinging to her skirt.
Old accounts are not cast up in this establishment. Donino watched me putting my writing things away; he was waiting to see me through my trouble. When I was ready, he took as much of my hand as he could hold in his, protectingly, and led me to the drawing room with a dignified air of importance.
"Oh," said Evadne, a little puzzled, "that's right." Donino looked from one to the other expectantly; but as his mother made no move, he edged up to her side, and repeated with emphasis: "Dad's sorry." "That's right," his mother answered, putting her arm round him, and caressing him fondly.
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