She rose at once with a little exclamation, half of surprise, half of pleasure. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. ’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. ‘Signed by a priest at Le Havre, so it must be true. If this is the young lady, she can perhaps calm him. So, after the dinner was over, Spurlock took her home; and worked far into the night. He had heard this talk before. He was a wonderful little creature with a perfect tiny face, mottled pink cheeks, and eyes brighter than May. But we wished to ascertain whether Mrs.
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