"Give the child into her hands! I would rather have caught it up like a kitten, and thrown it into the sea! I had found a family here--good, honest people--to whose care I could intrust it, and with whose children it is growing up. I myself have a room under the same roof. When I come home of an evening, I only need to open the door a little to see the little motherless thing asleep in its bed. But on Sunday I either stay at home in the afternoon, or take a drive or a walk with it to some place where I am sure of not meeting any curious acquaintances, who might ask me whose child it is. I pass in the city for unmarried. But, for some time past, I have been led to suspect that I have an enemy who is determined I shall not bear that character any longer. Lucie's mother appeared here a year or two ago. Had I known this woman before my marriage, I might perhaps have been warned not to trust those violet eyes. She has some hidden object for being here; she follows all my movements--I know that she wishes me ill--that letter to you confirms it. But, perhaps, it was better so. The letter that I wrote to you last night, who knows whether I should have had the courage to send it to-day? And yet, every hour longer that I kept you in the dark would have been a reproach to me. And now--" "I have a great favor to ask of you," she suddenly interrupted. "Julie, what could you ask that I would not joyfully--" "I would love so dearly to see the child. Will you bring it to me? or will you go there with me?" He took a step toward her; now, for the first time, he ventured to look her in the face. She rose and went forward to meet him. "Dear friend," she said, "I must know this child. No matter how well it may be taken care of where it is, it is and always will be motherless. It can only find a mother again in her who loves the father more than all else, and who would take to her heart all that belongs to him. Do you not see that you must bring the child to me?" "Julie!" he cried, in a tone that burst from his innermost heart, just as when a dreamer with a loud cry shakes off the nightmare that is so suffocating him. He staggered toward her, and tried to seize her hand; but she drew back a step, shook her head gently, and said, with a blush: