She wiped her happy tears away, and sang and crooned and worshipped as only a good mother can. Ah, the little fingers, the childish prattle, the pattering of little feet, what would the world be without them? Religion would be dead, and faith a mockery not to be indulged in without a sneering devil creeping close to lay its icy hands upon hearts in which sweet thoughts are harbored. Flowers of the human garden, let us be humbly grateful for the light they shed upon the dark spaces which at one time or other every mortal has to tread. In the midst of the gloom which surrounds us shines a star illumining a fair face and a head with flowing curls. In the midst of the stillness by which we are encompassed steals a musical voice, with its divine melody of childish laughter. What is that light in the distance? A bright cloud shining on a little bed, by the side of which kneels a small form clad in white. The pretty hands are clasped, and from the lovely lips issue the words, "Our Father which art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name!" It was impossible that Emilia could forget Gerald, but her thoughts of him were ever gentle and kind and forgiving. "You see our child, dear Gerald"--thus ran her thoughts--"watch over her. I forgive you for the wrong you committed. Do not trouble and sorrow over it. It is done and gone, and only sweetness remains. You have given me a flower which makes my heart a garden of love. God bless you, dear Gerald!" So from the bitterest woe in which a human being could be plunged uprose a heavenly light. "We must not spoil our child," said Madame Lambert. "We cannot spoil her," said Emilia. "Is she not beautiful?" "The loveliest baby that ever drew breath, my dear. You happy woman! If I were as young as you are I should be jealous of you." The good lady was amazed at the new beauty which now dwelt in Emilia's face. The young mother was transfigured. A holy radiance shed its light upon her. Madame Lambert found herself presently worshipping the mother almost as much as she worshipped the child. "If you were my own daughter, my dear," she said, "I could not love you more." "You are the best woman in the world," responded Emilia. "Heaven guided my feet when it led me to you." "Now it is time," said Madame Lambert, "to think of returning to Geneva. There is our baby's education to be attended to." "Yes," said Emilia, gravely. "She must be taught everything that is good." And baby was only four months old! But mothers let their thoughts run ahead. They did not, however, return at once to Madame Lambert's home. They lingered for two or three months in the valleys and mountains, and gathered garlands and posies for their child, which they pressed and preserved as though they were jewels of inestimable value. And, indeed, there are no jewels to compare with memories so sweet and pure. At length the happy rambles were over, and they were in Geneva. "Welcome home," said Madame Lambert.