The child was instantly brought to her.
"Does Mary love mother?" she asked of the child, in a tone of peculiar tenderness.
The child drew its little arms about her neck, and kissed her pale lips and cheeks fondly.
"Yes, Mary loves mother. But mother is going away to leave Mary. Will she be a good girl?"
The little thing murmured assent, as it clung closer to its mother's bosom.
Mrs. Fenwick then looked up into the faces of her father and mother with a sad but tender smile, and said—
"You will be good to little Mary when I am gone?
"Don't talk so, Mary!—don't, my child! You are not going to leave us," her mother sobbed, while the tears fell from her eyes like rain.
"Oh no, dear! you will not leave us," said her father, in a trembling voice.
"Yes, dear mother! dear father! I must go. But you will not let any one take little Mary from you?"