He knew how precious was such a forgiveness, the forgiveness of a mother heart broken for the child, which he, directly or indirectly, had sacrificed,--directly as he and Wonder alone knew, indirectly by taking them with him into the Valley of Beauty.
"Ah, Beatrice, your love is almost greater than I can bear.

I am not worthy of it.

I never shall be worthy.

There is something in the love of a woman like you to which the best man is unequal.

We can love--and greatly--but it is not the same." "We went into the valley," he cried, "and I lost you your little Wonder--" "_Our_ little Wonder," gently corrected Beatrice.