his reason; and what stern
confirmation of all he dreaded most, my silence must have seemed to him!

All this I saw in my mental survey with pity, with concern, with wild
desire to fly to him, and whisper truth and consolation in his arms; for
I loved this man as it is given to passionate, earnest natures to love
but once, be it early or late; loved him as Eve loved Adam, when the
whole inhabited earth was given to those two alone.

"You seem in very good spirits to-day, Miss Monfort," said Mrs. Clayton,
with unusual asperity on one occasion, when, holding Ernie in my arms, I
lavished endearments upon him; "your king, indeed! your angel! I really
believe you admire as well as love that hideous little elf."

"Of course I do, Mrs. Clayton; all things I love are beautiful to me;"
and I remembered how Bertie's plain face had grown into touching
loveliness in my sight from the affection I bore her.

"And do you really love this child?"

"Most certainly, and very tenderly too; is he not my sweetest
consolation in this dreary life?"

"What if they remove him?"

"Ah! what, indeed!" and, relaxing my grasp, I clasped my hands together
patiently; that thought had occurred to me before.

"It is a very strong affection to have sprung up from a short
acquaintance on a raft," she remarked, sententiously.

"I saved his infant life, you know; and the benefactor always loves the
thing he benefits. It is on this principle alone God loves his erring
creatures, Mrs. Clayton, rest assured."

"If you had loved the child with true friendship, you would have pushed
him into the sea, rather than have held him in your arms above it."

"Do you suppose he is less near to God than you or I--to Christ the
all-merciful?" I questioned, sternly. "Much rather would I have that
infant's yet unconscious hope of heaven than either yours or mine, Mrs.
Clayton!"

"But his earthly hope--it was that I alluded to; what chance for him?
Poor, weakly, deformed; he had better be at rest than knocked from
pillar to post, as he must be in this hard, cold world of chance and
change."

"And that shall never be while I live, Ernie," I said, taking him again
in my lap, at his silent solicitation. "Why, Mrs. Clayton, with such a
noble soul, such intelligence as this child possesses, he may fill a
pulpit, and save erring souls, or write such beautiful poems and
romances as shall thrill the heart, or draw from an instrument sounds as
divine as De Beriot's, or