Seeds of evil once taking root in children’s hearts are almost ineradicable. Years pass away. * * * * * There are times when the current of existence frets and boils along the rocky channel of anxiety, among the rugged crags of care, grief, and wrong; there are times when it dashes thundering over the precipice of some awful crime or calamity—times when it stagnates in the fœtid marshes of indolence and despair—times when it winds on between the verdant banks of peace and amid the blooming isles of pleasure—and times when, scarce marked by ragged crag or verdant isle, it flows on without joy or sorrow, straight towards the ocean of eternity. Even thus calmly flowed the lifestream of Sophie. Relieved from gnawing anxiety upon the children’s account, she was able to give a more cheerful attention to her husband, and soon the more happy effects were apparent. The gloom into which he had fallen was dissipated by the sunshine of her smiles. She now became conscious of a calm, pure, and holy affection for him, such as angels may be supposed to feel for sorrowing man—such as we feel for objects we have nursed and cherished. This sentiment deepened into tenderness as she saw—what she could not fail to see—that as the rays of intellect emanated clearer and clearer from his brain, they but served to reveal the blackness of the shadow of death gathering thick and thicker around him. And it was beautiful yet sorrowful to see how as the sun of reason shone forth, all those clouds and fogs of selfishness and suspicion vanished from his mind. This is not strange or even unusual in the history of mental disease. It is a well known fact that insanity frequently entirely reverses the natural character; thus, under its influence the disinterested grow selfish and exacting, while the selfish become generous, the timid bold, and the bold timid, and most frequently the gentle and sensitive grow harsh and violent. His gloom softened into sadness, into seriousness, into resignation, which soon brightened into gentle cheerfulness, which but one thing in the world could ruffle, the sight of Rosalia Aguilar; then indeed the tide of memory, laden with bitterness, would flow over his soul filling it with sorrow. Upon this account Rosalia became a permanent inmate of Grove Cottage; while Hagar, no longer repulsed by the caprices of his disease, became his most assiduous, and next to Sophie his best beloved nurse and companion. Thus they “brightened the links of love, of sympathy;” _and this returning confidence and affection of her uncle, gave Hagar the antidote for the poison of her soul_. Thenceforth in Hagar’s vision “anger, hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness,” were greater or less degrees of moral insanity. CHAPTER XV. THE MOOR.