But give me till to-morrow--only till to-morrow--I may be able to part with him then." The worthy carpenter was now far more angry with himself than he had previously been with Mrs.Sheppard; and, as soon as he could command his feelings, which were considerably excited by the mention of her distresses, he squeezed her hand warmly, bestowed a hearty execration upon his own inhumanity, and swore he would neither separate her from her child, nor suffer any one else to separate them.
"Plague on't!" added he: "I never meant to take your babby from you.

But I'd a mind to try whether you really loved him as much as you pretended.
I was to blame to carry the matter so far.

However, confession of a fault makes half amends for it.

A time _may_ come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood." As he said this, the carpenter patted the cheek of the little object of his benevolent professions, and, in so doing, unintentionally aroused him from his slumbers.

Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection.
"I don't think he would leave me, even if I could part with him," observed Mrs.Sheppard, smiling through her tears.
"I don't think he would," acquiesced the carpenter.