The Children's Pilgrimage

ived. She was a large, stout woman with a face made very red and rough from constant exposure to the weather. She did not live in London, but wo

tted, her mind appeared to partake of the same quality. She came noisily into the quiet room where Cecile had been tending her stepmother; she spoke in a loud tone, and appea

of great contempt; and although her stepmother looked after her longingly

rowner than English eyes are wont to be, and try hard to understand what it all meant, what the new tone and the new words could possibly signify; for Mrs. D'Albert, though she never professed to love the children, had always been just to them, she had never given them harsh treatment or rude words. It is true Cecile's heart, which was very big, had hungered for more than her stepmother had e

t putting her thoughts into regular words, she yet had read in that hard new face a grasping love of power, an eager greed for gold, and an unscrupulous nature which would not hesitate to possess itself of what it could. Cecile

y when I promised faithful, faithful to Lovedy's mother as I would find her; why, that 'ud

with great anxiety how she c

e awoke, and Toby shook himself and

ecile that gaze seemed to partake of a higher nature. For Cecile the big loving eyes grew pathetic, grew watchful, grew anxious. When sitting very close to Maurice, apparently absorbed in Maurice, he often rolled them softly round to the little girl. Those eyes spoke volumes. They seemed to say, "You and I have the care of this little baby boy. It is a g

. Instantly this anxiety was communicated to his own. He hung his head, his eyes

dded in reply, and then she ran upstairs to try and find some breakfast which she could bring into the court for all three. She had to go into the little sitting-room where her stepmother lay breathing loud and hard, and with her eyes shut. There was a look of great pain on her face, and Cecile, with a rush of sorrow, felt that she had looked much happier when she alone had been caring for her. Aunt

stayed on it for many hours, so that Maurice was not cold, and every hour or so Cecile crept upstairs and listened outside the sitting-room door. There was always that hard breathing within, but otherwise no sound. At last the sun went off the court, and Maurice

a light being flashed in her eyes, and Aunt Lydia's stron

r without a word i

fa, supported by pillows, and her brea

Cecile, say that bit-bi

glad Jesu

n m

the child

echoed the

lt about with her hand until it clas

room now, Cecile,

the little hand, and Cecile

like me to sta

an hour there was silence. Suddenly Cecile'

"Lovedy; find Lovedy