warm, dark eyes, she added: “No, I shall nevah forget. May I kiss you?”

“You sweet thing!” said the girl, impulsively, and, reaching up, they kissed. Cassandra said in her heart, “For David,” and was driven away.

Laura found her mother standing where they had left her. She had been deeply stirred by the sight of Cassandra with the child in her arms. Not that beautiful mothers and lovely children were rare in England; but that, except for the children of the poor, no little one like this had been in her own home or so near her in all the years of her widowhood. It was the sight of that strong mother love, overpowering and sweeping all before it, recognizing no lesser call — the secret and holy power that lies in the Christ-mother, for all periods and all peoples —