Near this was another case of books, all Oriental, or relating to the Orient. There were the Talmud and the Koran; there were hideous mythologies full of propitiatory prayers to the devil. There were _Vathek, The Arabian Nights, Ferdousi_, and a hundred others. Over this case hung an oval water-color of sea and sky with a rising sun blazing at the horizon, lighting with flickering gold a path across the blue, liquid expanse, and flooding with light the ethereal spaces. On a scroll beneath this was inscribed, "Ex Oriente Lux." "Light and hasheesh," said Mr. Southard laughingly. "Don't linger there too long." Mr. Granger called Dora to him. "What has my little girl been learning to-day?" he asked. The little one's eyes flashed with a sudden, glorious recollection. "O papa! I can spell cup." The father was suitably astonished. "Is it possible? Let me hear." The child raised her eyebrows, and played the coquette with her erudition. "You spell it," she said tauntingly. {162} Mr. Granger leaned back in his chair, and knitted his brows in intense study. "T-a-s-s-e, cup." "No-o, papa," said the fairy at his knee. "T-a-z-z-a, cup!" he essayed again. Dora shook her flossy curls. "T-a-z-a, cup!" he said desperately. The child looked at him with tears in her eyes. "Oh!" he said, "c-u-p, cup!" at which she screamed with delight. "How blue it sounds," said Margaret. "Like a Canterbury bell with a handle to it." A tray was brought in with coffee, which was Dora's signal to go to bed. She took an affectionate leave of all, but hid her face in Margaret's neck in saying good night. "Who was the little girl in the picture?" she whispered. "It was you, dear," was the reply. "I keeped thinking of it this ever so long," said the child. Her father always accompanied her to the foot of the stairs; and the two went out together, Dora clinging to his hand, which she held against her cheek, and he looking down upon her with a fond smile. Margaret shrank with a momentary spasm of pain and terror, as she looked after them. How fearful is that clinging love which human beings have for each other! how terrible, since, sooner or later, they must part; since, at any instant, the hand of fate may be outstretched to snatch them asunder! "Are you ill?" whispered Aurelia, touching her arm. Margaret started, and recollected herself with an effort; then smiled without an effort; for the door opened, and Mr. Granger came in again, glancing first at her, then coming to sit near her.