“Dear Heart, Sweet Heart,Time that little childrenCreep into their mothers’ arms, to wait Sleep’s silent call;Sweet Heart, Dear Heart,All the little childrenMust the Moon find sleeping when she mounts Heaven’s wall!“Sweet Heart, Dear Heart,Over little children,As they dream their white, white dreams, the wings of Love are pressed;Dear Heart, Sweet Heart,They were little childrenWhom the blessèd Child of Bethlehem lovèd best!“Dear Heart, Sweet Heart,All the little childrenCome from Love, and go to Love, when life’s long day is done;Sweet Heart, Dear Heart,All are little children,Hushed at last, on Nature’s bosom, one by one!”
“Dear Heart, Sweet Heart,Time that little childrenCreep into their mothers’ arms, to wait Sleep’s silent call;Sweet Heart, Dear Heart,All the little childrenMust the Moon find sleeping when she mounts Heaven’s wall!“Sweet Heart, Dear Heart,Over little children,As they dream their white, white dreams, the wings of Love are pressed;Dear Heart, Sweet Heart,They were little childrenWhom the blessèd Child of Bethlehem lovèd best!“Dear Heart, Sweet Heart,All the little childrenCome from Love, and go to Love, when life’s long day is done;Sweet Heart, Dear Heart,All are little children,Hushed at last, on Nature’s bosom, one by one!”
“Dear Heart, Sweet Heart,Time that little childrenCreep into their mothers’ arms, to wait Sleep’s silent call;Sweet Heart, Dear Heart,All the little childrenMust the Moon find sleeping when she mounts Heaven’s wall!
“Dear Heart, Sweet Heart,
Time that little children
Creep into their mothers’ arms, to wait Sleep’s silent call;
Sweet Heart, Dear Heart,
All the little children
Must the Moon find sleeping when she mounts Heaven’s wall!
“Sweet Heart, Dear Heart,Over little children,As they dream their white, white dreams, the wings of Love are pressed;Dear Heart, Sweet Heart,They were little childrenWhom the blessèd Child of Bethlehem lovèd best!
“Sweet Heart, Dear Heart,
Over little children,
As they dream their white, white dreams, the wings of Love are pressed;
Dear Heart, Sweet Heart,
They were little children
Whom the blessèd Child of Bethlehem lovèd best!
“Dear Heart, Sweet Heart,All the little childrenCome from Love, and go to Love, when life’s long day is done;Sweet Heart, Dear Heart,All are little children,Hushed at last, on Nature’s bosom, one by one!”
“Dear Heart, Sweet Heart,
All the little children
Come from Love, and go to Love, when life’s long day is done;
Sweet Heart, Dear Heart,
All are little children,
Hushed at last, on Nature’s bosom, one by one!”
And, as usually happened, when Elsa had said the last words, she fell fast asleep.
Down-stairs, Mrs. Danforth, putting aside her book, sat a long time deep in thought, her eyes shaded from the light. “Ben and Alice; Alice and Ben!” she kept repeating to herself. “Strange,—and the name, too, Holt, or Bolt;—yet it may be only that foolish old song. I must find out about it all.”
Finally, being a woman of strong will, she put the matter out of her mind, leaned back into the luxurious chair and went on reading her novel; while up-stairs, Elsa, the child who bore no shadow of resemblance to her in looks or ways, fell asleep with wet eyelashes.
Mrs. Danforth had every intention of being kind to Elsa. She provided suitable and pretty frocks and the daintiest of underwear for the child; she paid careful attention to Elsa’s education, her manners and her companions. The one thing she failedto give the child was the unbounded love which little fatherless and motherless Elsa needed more than anything else in the world.
In many ways Mrs. Danforth was proud of Elsa,—proud of her straight, naturally graceful figure, her spirited bearing, her wonderfully beautiful hair and eyes. Mrs. Danforth was a proud woman, and she enjoyed the thought that the little girl whom she called grandchild was well worthy of the name. She had never really cared for any child except her own daughter; but that was a sad story of long ago.
There was a definite reason why Mrs. Danforth did not give more affection to Elsa, just as there was a definite purpose back of her coming to live in Berkeley. This purpose, however, Mrs. Danforth was slow in carrying out, being a proud-spirited woman. To her many New York friends she explained her removal to Berkeley upon the ground that the quiet, suburban town, with its cultured people and its good schools, was a better place than New York City for Elsa to live in during the years of her young girlhood.