you do nothing. Till you are Christ's after this whole-hearted
fashion you are not mine as I wish to see you, -- you are not
mine for ever, -- my boy -- my dear Winthrop --" she said, again
putting her arm round him and bowing her face to his breast.

Did he ever forget the moment her head lay there? the moment
when his arms held the dearest earthly thing life ever had for
him? It was a quiet moment; she was not crying; no tears had
been dropped at all throughout their conversation; and when
she raised her face it was to kiss him quietly, -- but twice,
on his lips and on his cheek, -- and bid him good night. But
his soul was full of one meaning, as he shut his little
bedroom door, -- that that face should never be paler or more
care-worn for anything of his doing; -- that he would give up
anything, he would never go from home, sooner than grieve her
heart in a feather's weight; nay, that rather than grieve her,
he would _become a Christian_.


CHAPTER IV.


A lonely dwelling, where the shore
Is shadowed with rocks, and cypresses
Cleave with their dark green cones the silent skies,
And with their shadows the clear depths below.
SHELLEY.


The winter was a long one to the separated family. Quietly won