The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. The cook tried to ply her with spiced meat and fish soup. "I am—I am!" cried the widow, snatching the babe, and pressing it to her breast with rapturous delight "God be thanked, I have found it!" "We have both good reason to be grateful," added the lady, with great emotion. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. He, therefore, desires to interrogate him. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. What a girl of sixteen cares for is hair and a high color and moonlight and a tenor voice. You have only to look resolute and proceed upon your way.
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