There was something strangely attractive in that mother's face, as she pushed back the clustering hair, after smilingly listening to the story, and pressed a fervent kiss upon that baby brow-a look which had never been on any face for him, but which he had dreamed of at night, and longed for by day, with a strange, undefined, half-conscious longing. It was as if he had found something he had been blindly searching, something for which the solitary heart had vaguely felt an ever-present need; and the timid child, forgetting his timidity, his awe of the presence into which he had come-forgetting all but his heart's great need-in a burst of pathetic longing, more sorrowful than tears, cried:
'Give _me_ a kiss, too, just one!'
He was across the room and in her arms in a moment.
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