Ah! if I had doubted before, I could doubt no longer.
The little face, even in its waxen pallor, was like the beautiful one I had seen in its white despair last night.

Just the same cluster of hair, the same beautiful mouth and molded chin.

Mother and child, I knew and felt sure.

The little white garments were dripping, and some kind, motherly woman in the crowd came forward and dried the little face.
"Poor little thing!" she said; "how I should like to take those wet things off, and make it warm by a good fire!" "It will never be warm again in this world," said one of the boatmen.
"There is but little chance when a child has lain all night in the sea." "All night in the sea!" said the pitiful woman; "and my children lay so warm and comfortable in their little soft beds.

All night in the sea! Poor little motherless thing!" She seemed to take it quite for granted that the child must be motherless; in her loving, motherly heart she could not think of such a crime as a mother destroying her own child.