“If his father and mother,” said Mrs. Porson, as they stood regarding him, “are permitted to see their child, they shall see how we love him, and be willing he should love us!” As they went up the stairs with him, the boy woke. When he looked and saw a face that was not his mother’s, a cloud swept across the heaven of his eyes. He closed them again, and did not speak. The first of the shocks came as they were putting him to bed: he turned very white and looked up fixedly, as if waiting another fall from above, but sat motionless on his new mother’s lap. The instant the vibration and rocking ceased, he drank from the cup of milk she offered him, as quietly as if but a distant thunder had rolled away. When she put him in the bed, he looked at her with such an indescribable expression of bewildered loss, that she burst into tears. The child did not cry. He had not cried since they took him. The woman’s heart was like to break for him, but she managed to say, “God has taken her, my darling. He is keeping her for you, and I am going to keep you for her;” and with that she kissed him. The same moment came the second shock. Need wakes prophecy: the need of the child made of the parson a prophet. “It is God that does the shaking,” he said. “It’s all right. Nobody will be the worse--not much, at least!” “Not at all,” rejoined the boy, and turned his face away. From the lips of such a tiny child, the words seemed almost awful. He fell fast asleep, and never woke till the morning. Mrs. Porson lay beside him, yielding him, stout as she was, a good half of the little Italian bed. She scarcely slept for excitement and fear of smothering him. The Porsons were honest people, and for all their desire to possess the child, made no secret of how and where they had found him, or of as much of his name as he could tell them, which was only _Clare_. But they never heard of inquiry after him. On the gunboat at Genoa they knew nothing of their commander’s purposes, or where to seek him. Days passed before they began to be uneasy about him, and when they did make what search for him they could, it was fruitless. Chapter V. HIS NEW HOME.