graver face than usual. His mother's quick eye
immediately saw that something had agitated
him, but she forbore to ask.

"Mother," said he at last, "who is my father?
Is he dead or alive?"

"God is your father, my son," answered she,
tremblingly. "If you love me, ask me no more."

"I do love you, mother," he said, and gave
her a grave look, in which she thought she
detected a mingling of tenderness and reproach.
"And it shall be as you have said."

It was the first time she had had reason to
blush before him, and her emotion came near
overwhelming her; but with a violent effort
she stifled it, and remained outwardly calm.
He began pacing up and down the floor with
his head bent and his hands on his back. It
suddenly occurred to her that he was a grown
man, and that she could no longer hold the
same relation to him as his supporter and
protector. "Alas," thought she, "if God will but
let me remain his mother, I shall bless and thank Him."

It was the first time this subject had been
broached, and it gave rise to many a doubt and
many a question in the anxious mother's mind.