et."

In the other, "Poor darling, it is saddest of all for her, because she
knows nothing, and will never remember her mamma! But if Margaret is but
better, she will take care of her, and oh how we ought to try--and I,
such a naughty wild thing--if I should hurt the dear little ones by
carelessness, or by my bad example! Oh! what shall I do, for want of
some one to keep me in order? If I should vex papa by any of my wrong
ways!"

They heard the return of the others, and the sisters both sprang up,
"May we bring her to you?" said Flora.

"Yes, do, my dears."

The sisters all came down together with the little one, and Flora put
her down within the arm her father stretched out for her. He gazed into
the baby face, which, in its expressionless placidity, almost recalled
her mother's tranquil sweetness.

"Gertrude Margaret," said Flora, and with a look that had more of
tenderness than grief, he murmured, "My Daisy blossom, my little
Maggie."

"Might we?" said Ethel, when Flora took her again, "might we take her to
her godmother to see if she would notice her?"

He looked as if he wished it; but said, "No, I think not, better not
rouse her," and sighed heavily; then, as they stood round his bed,
unwilling to go, he added, "Girls, we must learn carefulness and
thoughtfulness. We have no one to take thought for us now."

Flora pressed the babe in her arms, Ethel's two reluctant tears stood
on her cheeks, Mary exclaimed, "I'll try not to be naughty;" and Blanche
climbed up to kiss him, saying, "I will be always good papa."

"Daisy--papa's Daisy--your vows are made," whispered Ethel, gaining sole
possession of the babe for a minute. "You have promised to be good and
holy. We have the keeping of you, mamma's precious flower, her pearl
of truth! Oh, may God guard you to be an unstained jewel, till you come
back to her again--and a blooming flower, till you are gathered into the
wreath that never fades--my own sweet poor little motherless Daisy!"

CHAPTER V.

"Through lawless camp, through ocean wild,
Her prophet eye pursues her child;
Scans mournfully her poet's strain,
Fears for her merchant, loss alike and gain."
LYRA INNOCENTIUM.

Dr. May took the management of himself into his own hands, and paid
so little attention to Mr. Ward's recommendations that his sons and
daughters were in continual dread of his choosing to do something that
mig