CHAPTER XIV.
A LITTLE STRANGER COMES ON BOARD.
'SOMEHOW, husband,' said Mrs Paterson to her spouse next day when they were alone together in the cabin, 'I feel strangely drawn towards that child, Lotty.'
'She's a charming little thing, I must say. Glad we picked the mite up.'
'But,' continued his wife, 'with me there seems something more than mere interest, George.'
'What mean you, wife?'
'I wish I could explain to you, but I can't even to myself. But did you never think, dear, that the very expression of someone, a long time dead and gone, may be seen again in the face of the living?'
'I can't quite follow you.'
'Neither can I follow myself,' said the good woman, smiling somewhat sadly; 'but'——
. . . . . . .
This was going to be a real holiday for Lotty, and in her youthful capacity for pleasure she was going to make the best of it. She had not to beckon pleasure to come to her, it was coming, and would come without being asked. The very novelty of her situation and surroundings was enthralling. She had come or been brought into an entirely new world. It felt as if Providence or Chance had staged for her a fresh and startling drama—new scenery, new acting, new everything—and she had nothing to do but wait and look on and be glad.