"How very sad!"
"Sad enough, Edith, sad enough. Mr. Jasper, who has no taste for scenes of distress, wished me to look after the funeral arrangements; so I went to the house, and attended to matters as well as I could. Ah me! It has cast a gloom over my feelings that I find it hard to cast off."
"Did you see the child?" inquired Mrs. Claire, the mother's impulse giving direction to her thoughts.
"Yes; and a lovely child it is. Poor thing!"
"There are near relatives, I presume?"
"None; at least, so Jasper says."
"What is to become of the child?"
"Dear above knows! As for her legal guardian, she has nothing to hope from his humanity. She will naturally find a home somewhere—a home procured for money. But her future comfort and well-being will depend more on a series of happy accidents than on the good-will of the hard-hearted man to whose tender mercies the dying parents have committed her."
"Not happy accidents, Edward," said Mrs. Claire, with a tender smile; "say, wise providences. There is no such thing as chance."
"As you will, dear," returned the husband, with a slight change in his tone. "I would not call that providence wise by which Leonard Jasper became the guardian of a friendless child."