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"
Father
,
"
said
Annie
,
thinking
that
a
word
of
praise
from
the
old
watchmaker
might
gratify
his
former
apprentice
,
"
do
come
and
admire
this
pretty
butterfly
.
"
"
Let
us
see
,
"
said
Peter
Hovenden
,
rising
from
his
chair
,
with
a
sneer
upon
his
face
that
always
made
people
doubt
,
as
he
himself
did
,
in
everything
but
a
material
existence
.
"
Here
is
my
finger
for
it
to
alight
upon
.
I
shall
understand
it
better
when
once
I
have
touched
it
.
"
But
,
to
the
increased
astonishment
of
Annie
,
when
the
tip
of
her
father
s
finger
was
pressed
against
that
of
her
husband
,
on
which
the
butterfly
still
rested
,
the
insect
drooped
its
wings
and
seemed
on
the
point
of
falling
to
the
floor
.
Even
the
bright
spots
of
gold
upon
its
wings
and
body
,
unless
her
eyes
deceived
her
,
grew
dim
,
and
the
glowing
purple
took
a
dusky
hue
,
and
the
starry
lustre
that
gleamed
around
the
blacksmith
s
hand
became
faint
and
vanished
.
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"
It
is
dying
!
it
is
dying
!
"
cried
Annie
,
in
alarm
.
"
It
has
been
delicately
wrought
,
"
said
the
artist
,
calmly
.
"
As
I
told
you
,
it
has
imbibed
a
spiritual
essence
call
it
magnetism
,
or
what
you
will
.
In
an
atmosphere
of
doubt
and
mockery
its
exquisite
susceptibility
suffers
torture
,
as
does
the
soul
of
him
who
instilled
his
own
life
into
it
.
It
has
already
lost
its
beauty
;
in
a
few
moments
more
its
mechanism
would
be
irreparably
injured
.
"
"
Take
away
your
hand
,
father
!
"
entreated
Annie
,
turning
pale
.
"
Here
is
my
child
;
let
it
rest
on
his
innocent
hand
.
There
,
perhaps
,
its
life
will
revive
and
its
colors
grow
brighter
than
ever
.
"
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Her
father
,
with
an
acrid
smile
,
withdrew
his
finger
.
The
butterfly
then
appeared
to
recover
the
power
of
voluntary
motion
,
while
its
hues
assumed
much
of
their
original
lustre
,
and
the
gleam
of
starlight
,
which
was
its
most
ethereal
attribute
,
again
formed
a
halo
round
about
it
.
At
first
,
when
transferred
from
Robert
Danforth
s
hand
to
the
small
finger
of
the
child
,
this
radiance
grew
so
powerful
that
it
positively
threw
the
little
fellow
s
shadow
back
against
the
wall
.
He
,
meanwhile
,
extended
his
plump
hand
as
he
had
seen
his
father
and
mother
do
,
and
watched
the
waving
of
the
insect
s
wings
with
infantine
delight
.
Nevertheless
,
there
was
a
certain
odd
expression
of
sagacity
that
made
Owen
Warland
feel
as
if
here
were
old
Pete
Hovenden
,
partially
,
and
but
partially
,
redeemed
from
his
hard
scepticism
into
childish
faith
.
"
How
wise
the
little
monkey
looks
!
"
whispered
Robert
Danforth
to
his
wife
.
"
I
never
saw
such
a
look
on
a
child
s
face
,
"
answered
Annie
,
admiring
her
own
infant
,
and
with
good
reason
,
far
more
than
the
artistic
butterfly
.
"
The
darling
knows
more
of
the
mystery
than
we
do
.
"