Mary did not answer, but her eyes began to sparkle, and bending her head softly down, as a meek child does in prayer, she covered Enoch Sharp's hands with soft, timid kisses, that went to the very core of his noble heart. "Would you like to know where, and what, your home is to be, little one?" he said, smoothing her hair with one disengaged hand. "If you please, but I am sure it will be very nice, so near her." "Do you wish very much to be with her?" "Indeed I do, and if they could send us word from heaven, I know her father and mother would say it was best." "But there is no relationship between you," said he, willing to probe her frank soul to the bottom. "Relationship, sir," answered the child, with the most touching smile that ever lighted human face, "oh, sir, haven't you seen how lovely she is? And I"-- The child paused and spread her little hands open, as much as to say, "and I! _could_ two creatures so opposite be of the same blood?" "I think you more lovely by half than she is, my child," cried Enoch Sharp, drawing the hand, still warm with her grateful kisses, across his eyes; "good children are never ugly, you know." The child looked at him wonderingly. "You have seen a thunder-cloud," he said, answering the look, "how leaden and dismal it is of itself; but let the sun shine strike it and its edges are fringed with rosy gold, its masses turn purple and warm crimson, it breaks apart and rainbows leap from its bosom, bridging the sky with light; do you understand, my child?" "Oh! yes, sir, I have seen the clouds melt away into rainbows so often." "Well, it is the sunshine that makes a thing of beauty, where was only a dull black cloud. In the human face, my child, goodness acts like sunshine on the clouds. Be very good, little one, and the best portion of mankind will always think you handsome." Mary listened very earnestly, but with an irresolute and unconvinced expression. This doctrine of immaterial loveliness she could not readily adopt; and, strange enough, did not quite relish. Her admiration of Isabel's beauty was so intense, that words like these seemed to outrage it. "Come, come," said the Judge, who had never had an opportunity of conversing much with the child, "you must not cry so bitterly at being parted." "Sir," said the child, turning her large spiritual eyes upon the Judge, "her father and mother were very, very kind to me, when I had no home, no food--nothing--nothing on earth but the cold streets to live in; remember that!" "It is important that I should be well informed about you, Mary. Who was your father?" "My father," cried the child, starting upright, and her eyes flashed out brightly, scattering back their tears, "my father was as good a man as ever breathed; good, good, sir, as you are. He did everything for me, worked for me, taught me himself, nursed me in his own arms, my father--oh, my poor, poor father, he is a bright angel in heaven." "But your mother--did she act kindly by you?"