"You are horrid!" said Angel; "I wish I hadn't told you now. But it
wasn't merely the colour of the eyes. It was the look in them."

"Look again, and see if you haven't made a mistake. Look very
carefully," said Henry.

"I won't," said Angel; "I think you're cruel."

"Angel, if you'll only look, and say you are quite sure, I'll believe
every word the old woman said."

At last Angel was persuaded to look, and to look again, and the old
woman's credit rose at each look.

"Yes, Henry, whatever happens, I know it is true. My life is in your
hands."

Those are solemn words for one human being to hear uttered by another;
and a shiver of new responsibility involuntarily ran through
Henry's veins.

"May the hands be always strong and clean enough to hold so precious a
gift," he answered, gravely.

"Are you sad, dear?" asked Angel, presently, with a sort of divination.

"Not sad, dear, but serious," he answered.

"Have I turned to a responsibility so soon?"