“An’ its mesilf loved the purty crather well; but my love kim no nearer the love the b’y had for her than the light of a taller candle does to the sun in hiven.  He loved her that sthrong, that it med him do a mane thing in kapin’ her whin he knowed who she wor; but sure it’s betther ter sin fer love than ter sin fer sin’s sake.”

Mrs. Legrange smiled sadly.  To her it had seemed, from the first, small matter of surprise, however great of regret, that Teddy should have found ’Toinette’s attractions irresistible; or that, having once appropriated her as his little sister, he should have found it almost impossible to relinquish her.

She had not, therefore, shared at all in the indignation of her cousin and husband toward the boy, and had even solicited the former to retain him in his employ.  But Mr. Burroughs, kind, generous, and forbearing as he was, cherished implacable ideas of integrity and honor, and never forgave an offence against either, whether in friend or servant; so that his cousin had finally withdrawn her request, asking, instead, that he should conduct her to Mrs. Ginniss’s dwelling, and leave the rest to her.  This the young man had consented to do; and, as Mrs. Legrange would not allow him to wait for her, he had privately instructed James to do so, and had not left the outer door until he saw that faithful servitor upon guard.

Just what were her own intentions with regard to Teddy, or his mother, Mrs. Legrange did not herself know; and, once arrived in the room where ’Toinette had lived out the weary months since her loss, all other ideas had faded and disappeared before the memories there confronting her.  Now, however, the sweet and generous nature of the woman re-asserted itself, and she kindly said,—­

“Yes:  I see how great Teddy’s temptation was, and I cannot wonder that he yielded to it.  Any one would have found it hard to part with ’Toinette; and he, poor boy! could not know how I was suffering.  It would have been different if you had known who she was.”

“Indade an’ it would.  One moother can fale fer another; but these childhren hasn’t the sinse till they gits the sorrer.  Small fear that Teddy’ll iver go asthray agin from light-heartedness.”

“Does he feel very sorry, then?” asked Mrs. Legrange timidly.

“Sorry isn’t the word, ma’am.  It’s his own heart as he consumes day an’ night,” said Mrs. Ginniss gloomily.

“Because she is lost, or because he kept her in the first place?” asked the lady.

“It’s hard tellin’, an’ he niver spakin’ whin he can help it; but I belave it’s all together.  He wor sich a bowld b’y, an’ so sthrong for risin’ in the world; an’ wor alluz sayin’ as he’d be a gintleman afore he died, an’ readin’ his bit books and writins, an’ tillin’ me about the way the counthry wor goin’; an’, right or wrong, it’s he wor ready to guide the whole of ’em.  An’, sure, it wor wondherful to see the sinse that wor in him when he get spakin’ of thim things; an’ one day, whin I said to him,—­