"No; why should I? she robbed me of her--my darling wife." "But you do not know that? and certainly it was innocently, if at all." "That has always been my feeling." "You ought not to allow yourself to feel so," she said almost indignantly. "Poor little motherless darling! must she be worse than fatherless too?" "What would you have, Marcia?" he asked coldly, his face still turned from her, "what could I do with a child? And she is well off where she is; better than she could be anywhere else;--under the care of a pious old Scotch woman who has been house-keeper in the Grayson family for many years, and that of her mammy who nursed her mother before her: a faithful old creature so proud and fond of her young mistress that I doubt if she would have hesitated to lay down her life for her." "That is well so far as it goes, Horace, but do you wish your child to grow up a stranger to you? would you have no hand in the moulding of her character, the training of her mind?" "I had not thought of that," he said sighing, "but I do not feel competent to the task." "But it is your work; a work God himself has appointed you in giving you the child; a work for which he will give wisdom if you seek it of him. "'If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not: and it shall be given him.' "And if you neglect it, my dear cousin,--bear with me, while I say it--it will be at your peril." "How do you mean, Marcia?" "The day may come when you will want that child's love and obedience: when you will covet them more than any other earthly good, and perhaps, find that they are denied you." "It is possible you may be right in regard to the first," he said haughtily, his dark eyes flashing, as he turned his face towards her again, "but as to the other--her obedience--it will be strange indeed if I cannot compel it. She may have a strong will, but she will find that mine is yet stronger." "Horace," said his cousin earnestly, "if you refuse or neglect to do a father's duty by her, what right can you have to claim a child's duty from her?" "I am not conscious of having neglected my duty toward her thus far," he said, still haughtily. "As I have already explained, she is where, in my judgment, she is better off for the present, than she could be anywhere else. What changes may come in the future I do not know." "Forgive me if I have seemed to blame you undeservedly," Mrs. Keith said with tears in her eyes; "but ah, my heart yearns over that poor baby!" She caught up her own and kissed it passionately as she spoke. "Ah!" she sighed, pressing the little creature to her bosom, "whatever would my darlings do without a father's and a mother's love!" He walked to the window and stood there for several minutes. Then coming back,