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No man ever really loved a woman, lost her, and knew her with a

blameless though an unchanged mind, when she was a wife and a

mother, but her children had a strange sympathy with him--an

instinctive delicacy of pity for him. What fine hidden

sensibilities are touched in such a case, no echoes tell; but it

is so, and it was so here. Carton was the first stranger to whom

little Lucie held out her chubby arms, and he kept his place with

her as she grew. The little boy had spoken of him, almost at the

last. "Poor Carton! Kiss him for me!"