"You are wiser and cleverer than I am, dear mistress, and far better, too, for you are of those who 'think no evil,' and strive to find and cherish good in all things. I cannot prove that you are mistaken in this case. Indeed, it is just of your goodness and patience, that you allow me, your humble servant, to speak with such plainness and freedom. But you know how I love you and yours, and you bear with me for the sake of all that has come and gone during the lives we have mostly spent together. And now it is not for me to battle with your wishes, or trouble you with my impetuous tongue, especially when I have no sounder argument to offer than I have urged already. Yet sometimes the instinct born of love is worth more than learning, and there is that in me which says, as plainly as ever voice uttered words, 'It will be for evil to you and Miss Margery, and not for good, if you bring the child of Edward Austin under this roof.'" Mrs. Austin could not help being deeply impressed by Barbara's words, and touched by her faith in these inward impressions; but she was too anxious to try the effect of a child's companionship on her own daughter to be turned from her purpose by them. "You have not heard the contents of this letter yet," she said; "listen, and I will read what is written— "Dear Madam," "You will remember that two years ago I wrote to inform you of Mrs. Edward Austin's death, during the absence of her husband on the Continent, and of the sad circumstances which attended it. But for the kindness of friends she and her child would have been destitute of common necessaries; but for your goodness she would have been buried at the cost of the parish, for no one knew where her husband was to be found at the time. He returned, as you also know, and was greatly distressed by the loss of his excellent wife and the position of his child, who was left by her mother in my care." "Again by your bounty, Mr. Austin was enabled to prepare a home to shelter the innocent little one, to whom, in spite of his many faults, he was devotedly attached. Only a week ago the father and child were living together, a respectable middle-aged housekeeper having charge of the cottage which sheltered them, and I believe he was both a better and happier man than he had been for years. The innocent companionship of his little Clare was a wonderful help and safeguard, and showed what strength there may be even in a child's loving hand, and what good may spring from a pure affection for 'one of these little ones.'"