I know she is beautiful, for she has the dark eyes and hair of her mother." "Blanche, beauty is not confined to black eyes and hair alone," said John.
She went on: "And your little boy is a man now, twenty years of age, and he is no doubt strong, brave, gallant and noble.

Surely you must be proud of such a son.

Your wife has grown more wise with her distress, and she still looks to the ocean for the return of one for whom she will wait until the angel of death summons her to meet him in Heaven." "Blanche, Blanche, how strangely you talk!" "I fancy I can see them, and they are happy in their little home.

The son supports his mother.

Oh, they are happy!" "Blanche, Blanche, your cheeks are flushed, your eyes are unnaturally bright; you have a fever." She laughingly answered: "It is only a slight cold, the result of our visit to the peak of old Snow-Top." He administered such simple remedies as they had at hand, tucked her up warmly in bed and sat by her side until she was asleep.