The chamber was lit with flickering candles and the children were all seated in a circle. Their faces were filled with wonder and excitement and their eyes were fixated on Vincent, who was reading in a soft, warm voice:
"I found every breath of air, and every scent, and every flower, and leaf and blade of grass and every passing cloud, and everything in nature, more beautiful and wonderful than I had ever found it yet. This was my first gain from my illness. How little I had lost when the wide world was so full of delight for me."
Behind his impressive silhouette Father entered the room.
"I believe it is time for bed," he stated, ignoring the children's mutters of protest. "Mary will be in shortly to tuck you in and I will want to hear all about your little chemistry project in the morning, so best make an early start."
One by one the children got up to go to their dormitory.
"Night, Vincent," they spoke interchangeably. "Night, Father."
Father patted one of the smaller boys on the head. Samantha hesitated for a moment. Then she ran to Vincent and threw her arms around his neck.
"I'm glad we get to read Bleak House together," she told him.
Vincent smiled.
"So am I, Samantha."
The little girl merrily hopped out of the chamber and Father could not suppress an amused laugh.
"They have missed you," he noticed.
"I was only away for a couple of hours."
"Yes, but they were the longest hours of their lives."
Slowly Father limped to one of chairs.
"Eric tells me Catherine will be reading with them next week."
"Yes," Vincent affirmed. "She is meaning to spend more time with the children."
"And with you."
Father seemed somewhat dazed.
"I know you are concerned," Vincent said, "but it is only time and we have had so little of it in the past."
"I know," Father whispered, "and I am happy for you both, but as a friend I am also entitled to be just a little concerned."
Vincent bent over to place a large, fur-covered hand on his shoulder.
"I am well now, Father," he assured him. "In fact, I don't recall having been this much at peace with myself in years, perhaps not even as a child."
"Yours has not been an easy path," Father agreed. "I must say I've been stumped at your resilience. Envious even, at times. I'm not sure I wouldn't have cracked under the pressure."
"I did crack," Vincent refuted, "twice."
Father's hand patted the back of his.
"But you persevered and that is what matters."