It was a very warm evening, and the windows of the room were wide open to admit the air. Through one of them, looking upon the garden, Marian McAlpine witnessed the little scene; the words spoken did not reach her ear, but she saw the expression of the countenance of the captain and his children, and the caresses given and received.
“What a good, kind father! and what happy, happy children!” she murmured half aloud, as she turned away with a sigh that seemed to say her own lot was not so blessed.
Passing round the house and into the porch she found her mother, now sitting there alone.
Taking a chair close by her side, “Mother,” she said, “I think that Captain Raymond must be a very good man.”
“I dare say he is, child; certainly he has been extremely liberal to the mission cause in this town.”
“And he looks so good and kind and seems so fond of his children,” Marian went on. “I saw him reading to them to-night—the little girl sitting on his knee and the boy as close as he could well get by his side; the Bible I suppose it was, for when he closed it they all three knelt down together, and I could hear his voice as if he was praying, though not the words. Then they got up and hugged and kissed each other good-night. They’re the very happiest looking people I ever saw.”
“So I think. But, Marian, you shouldn’t be spying out what they are doing in the privacy of their own room.”
“I didn’t mean to, mother, but I happened to look up at their window—the light was so bright, you know—and I saw the girl help herself to a seat on her father’s knee, just as if she was sure he’d like her to, and put her arm round his neck, and it was such a pretty scene I couldn’t help standing there and watching them a bit. They don’t have to share their father with a lot of other children that are not their mother’s too,” she added, in a suppressed and bitter tone.
“Marian, Marian, hush!” exclaimed Mrs. McAlpine, in a low voice quivering with pain; “is your end of the cross heavier than mine?”
“No, mother, dear, not half so heavy: the cruelest part of it is seeing you suffer—you, who are as good and pure as an angel!” returned the girl passionately.