The Love of God. 141

and down all the carriage roads, and made en-
quiries at all the lodges, and finally difcovered that
a beggar woman had paffed out at one of them
upwards of an hour before, very hurriedly, and in-
deed almoft at a running pace.

Theodore glanced at the child, but his counte-
nance never changed. Only he fat eying the
houfekeeper as fhe fpoke, apparently indifferent to
the refult. The houfekeeper now began to eja-
culate in broken fentences, ‘‘ The bafe creature !
To think that you fhould have taken all this trou-
ble, Sir ! and had the child aétually into the houfe!
and—gracious me,”’ added fhe in a half whifper,
“ hadn’t I better call the butler, Sir; hadn’t he’’
(nodding fignificantly towards the child) “ better
be taken to the workhoufe at once, Sir ?”

“ ] think not,” anfwered Theodore flowly—
“ not yet, I think. The truth is, I find he’s not
her own child, but has been ftolen ; and—and—in
faét, we can fend him to the workhoufe to-morrow.
Perhaps, after all, the woman may come here for
him. But, at any rate, there is time enough. You
fee this is an odd affair ; and, as the boy is not hers,
we don’t know who he may not turn out to be fome
day.” And, as Theodore thus concluded his fen-
tence, he got up and looked at the old houfekeeper
with a fmile—a melancholy one it is true, but ftill
it was a {mile—the firft that had been feen on his
face fince his terrible bereavement.

And the faithful fervant was fo much pleafed
that fhe forgot every thing elfe in a defire to keep