, or a little child whom you idolized? That would have been
trouble before which such as you are grieving over now would have paled
as the stars pale before a strong noon-day sun.

"I do not ask you your story, my poor girl, but listen, and I will tell
you mine, and you can then judge how much mightier is my grief than
yours."

"If you look through the trees yonder you will see a great stone mansion
on the brow of the hill.

"It is my home. I live there with a dear young husband who adores me; my
slightest wish is his law.

"I have liveried servants who anticipate and execute my slightest wish.
I have all that wealth can buy and love can lavish upon me, but, God
help me! I am the most unhappy creature that walks this flower-strewn
earth.

"I have endured a sorrow so great that the wonder is it has not turned
my brain. Some few months since I was happy in the love of a little
child. Oh! I idolized my babe with a love that seemed greater than human
affection. It was the loadstar of my life.

"'Take care! Beware!' cried one and all. 'Such idolatry is not wise; it
displeases Heaven.'

"I laughed, and did not heed. One day we discharged a worthless servant
and he cried out to my husband, as he turned away from the door: 'You
shall repent this! I will yet wring the heart of you and yours to the
very core; and in that moment, remember me!'

"A week passed. One night I suddenly awoke from a troubled dream about
my babe.

"I put out my hand. It was not in its little crib of white and gold. I
sprang from my couch with wild cries that alarmed the household, for I
could not find my child. She was gone, as if the earth had opened and
swallowed her. But on the pillow of the crib the servants found a note
which bore these words:

"'My revenge is complete. It is useless to search for your child, for by
the time this meets your eye your little one will have found a watery
grave.'

"I was wild with grief for days and weeks. And when I became somewhat
rational, and could understand what was passing about me, I learned the
terrible truth--the sad, pitiful story: my babe had indeed found a
watery grave. They found a little shoe, its cape, and portions of its
dress floating on the waves the next morning. But the body was never
recovered; it had drifted out to sea. Now you will not wonder why I
wander up and down this lonely path at midnight--why I listen on my
bended knees for hours to the whispering voice of the waves. It see