She was lying late in the afternoon upon the drawing-room sofa, the effects of her still lingering weakness causing a dreamy feeling of weariness to creep over her. Struggling with the sensation, and wishing to arouse herself, she now and then opened her languid eyes, and spoke to her little companion, who sat so seriously at the foot of the couch, amusing himself with the book upon his knee--his favourite book of scripture prints and stories. He was an interesting and peculiar child, very unlike the girl, who had all the _eveillé_, excitable disposition of her mother--or the high-spirited, most beautiful child, the youngest boy, of whom his parents were so proud and fond. "What are you reading, Charlie?" Mary inquired. "About Cain and Abel. Here is the picture of Cain, that dark, bad man, who hated his brother Abel," the child replied. "And why did he hate him, Charlie?" "Because his brother's works were good, and his were evil." "It is very dreadful not to love one's brother. Always love your's, Charlie," Mary said mournfully. "I do love him," the boy answered with simple earnestness, lifting up his expressive eyes to his gentle monitor's face; "and look," he continued, sidling closer to her side, "here are two other brothers, who once did not love one another; and one was obliged to go and live for a great many years in a far-off country; but see here, he is returned, and the brothers have forgiven one another; and," continuing in the words of the scripture explanation written in the page, "'Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they wept.' That is a nicer picture, Mary, than that of Cain and Abel, for Abel there is dead, and Cain can never be forgiven; but must wander about the earth with a mark upon his forehead, lest people should kill him; but Jacob and Esau might be friends on earth, and meet again in heaven."