way everybody we met has stared after that child to-day!" she would
whisper her husband when she brought Ellen home from some little
expedition; then the two would look at the little one's face with
the one holy vanity of the world. Ellen wore to-night the little
white shawl which her father had caught up when he carried her over
to her grandmother's. She held it tightly together under her chin
with one tiny hand, and her face looked out from between the soft
folds with the absolute purity of curve and color of a pearl.

"Oh, you darling!" said the woman, suddenly; "you darling!" and
Ellen shrank away from her. "Don't be afraid, dear," said Cynthia
Lennox. "Don't be afraid, only tell me who you are. What is your
name, dear?" But Ellen remained silent; only, as she shrank aloof,
her eyes grew wild and bright with startled tears, and her sweet
baby mouth quivered piteously. She wanted to run, but the habit of
obedience was so strong upon her little mind that she feared to do
so. This strange woman seemed to have gotten her in some invisible
leash.

"Tell me what your name is, darling," said the woman, but she might
as well have importuned a flower. Ellen was proof against all
commands in that direction. She suddenly felt the furry sweep of the
lady's cloak against her cheek, and a nervous, tender arm drawing
her close, though she strove feebly to resist. "You are cold, you
have nothing on but this little white shawl, and perhaps you are
hungry. What were you looking in this window for? Tell me, dear,
where is your mother? She did not send you on an errand, such a
little girl as you are, so late on such a cold night, with no more
on than this?"