He could not meet the anguish in those
other eyes so earnestly fixed upon him.
"She was the adopted child of the people I visited in Iowa,"
faltered he.
"Theodore!" said Mrs. Legrange again; and then, in a breathless
fluttering voice,--
"Do not trifle with me; do not try to prepare my mind; and, oh! For
God's sake, if it is a false hope, say so this instant! Is she
found?"
"I think it may be so, dear Mrs. Legrange!"
"No, but it is so! you know it! I see it in your eyes, I hear it in
your voice! You cannot hide it, you cannot deceive me! O my God! my
God!-to thee the first praise, the first thanks!"
She fell upon her knees, her face upraised to heaven; and never
mortal artist drew such a picture of ecstatic praise. And though in
after-years Theodore Ginniss wandered through the galleries where
the world conserves her rarest gems of art, never did he find
Madonna or Magdalen or saint to compare with the one picture his
memory treasured as the perfection of earthly loveliness, made
radiant with the purest heavenly bliss.
"Now come!" exclaimed the mother, springing to her feet, and rapidly
leading the way along the narrow path. "You shall tell me all as we
go."
And the young man found it hard work to keep pace with the delicate
woman, as she flew rather than walked towards her child.
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