Nothing could alter that fact. Her lot was cast; her duty was clear
before her; she must accept it and bear it, whatever it might be perhaps,
for some reasons, it was the better for her that it was rather hard.

She looked at her husband, saw how agitated he was, and there seemed
to come into her mind a sort of inspiration.

"My child," she said, trying to draw Letitia toward her, "you say truly.
I am not your own mamma; no one ever could be that to you again; but
I mean to be as like her as I can. I mean to love you and take care of
you; and you will love me too by-and-by. You can always talk to me
as much as ever you like about your own mamma."

"She doesn't remember her one bit," said Arthur, contemptuously.

"Oh, yes I do," cried Letitia. "She was very pretty, and always wore
such beautiful gowns."

Again there was a silence, and then Christian said,

"I think, if the children do not dislike it, that as they always called Mrs.
Grey 'mamma,' they had better call me 'mother.' It is a pleasanter word
than step-mother. And I hope to make myself a real mother to them
before very long."

"I know you will," answered Dr. Grey, in a smothered voice, as he set
down little Oliver, and, kissing the children all round, bade nurse carry
them off to bed once more--nurse, who, standing apart, with her great
black eyes had already taken the measure of the new wife, of the
children's future, and of the chances of her own authority. Not the