<p>May 15th.—How cruel it was of me to put those poor little owls into
a cage even for one night! I cannot forgive myself, and shall never pander
to the Man of Wrath's wishes again. This morning I got up early to see how
they were getting on, and I found the door of the cage wide open and no
owls to be seen. I thought of course that somebody had stolen them—some
boy from the village, or perhaps the chastised cowherd. But looking about
I saw one perched high up in the branches of the beech tree, and then to
my dismay one lying dead on the ground. The third was nowhere to be seen,
and is probably safe in its nest. The parents must have torn at the bars
of the cage until by chance they got the door open, and then dragged the
little ones out and up into the tree. The one that is dead must have been
blown off the branch, as it was a windy night and its neck is broken.
There is one happy life less in the garden to-day through my fault, and it
is such a lovely, warm day—just the sort of weather for young soft
things to enjoy and grow in. The babies are greatly distressed, and are
digging a grave, and preparing funeral wreaths of dandelions.</p>
<p>Just as I had written that I heard sounds of arrival, and running out I
breathlessly told the Man of Wrath how nearly I had been able to give him
the owls he has so often said he would like to have, and how sorry I was
they were gone, and how grievous the death of one, and so on after the
voluble manner of women.</p>
<p>He listened till I paused to breathe, and then he said, "I am surprised at
such cruelty. How could you make the mother owl suffer so? She had never
done you any harm."</p>
<p>Which sent me out of the house and into the garden more convinced than
ever that he sang true who sang—</p>
<p>Two paradises 'twere in one to live in Paradise alone.<br/></p>
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