But a woman’s life is all chance. After encountering other dangers, and being twice, compelled to fling himself flat upon his face to avoid slipping from the wet and slimy pathway, he was at length about to emerge from the lock, when, to his inexpressible horror, he found he had lost the child! All the blood in his veins rushed to his heart, and he shook in every limb as he made this discovery. Try and let him never regret it. The fact itself is regrettable enough—regrettable, I fear, is quite an inadequate word. With the last glimmer of decency he had sent the daughter to his sister. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely.
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