an, or a changeling, or stamped with some social stigma. It was
impossible to be, in fact, more exempt from these misfortunes, and
yet, as one kissed him, it was hard to keep from murmuring "Poor little
devil!" though why one should have applied this epithet to a living
cherub is more than I can say. Afterwards, indeed, I knew a little
better; I simply discovered that he was too charming to live, wondering
at the same time that his parents should not have perceived it, and
should not be in proportionate grief and despair. For myself, I had no
doubt of his evanescence, having already noticed that there is a kind of
charm which is like a death-warrant.

The lady who had been sitting with Mrs. Ambient was a jolly, ruddy
personage, dressed in velveteen and rather limp feathers, whom I guessed
to be the vicar's wife,--our hostess did not introduce me,--and who
immediately began to talk to Ambient about chrysanthemums. This was a
safe subject, and yet there was a certain surprise for me in seeing
the author of _Beltraffio_ even in such superficial communion with the
Church of England. His writings implied so much detachment from that
institution, expressed a view of life so profane, as it were, so
independent, and so little likely, in general, to be thought edifying,
that I should have expected to find him an object of horror to vicars
and their ladies--of horror repaid on his own part by good-natured but
brilliant mockery. This proves how little I knew as yet of the English
people and their extraordinary talent for keeping up their forms, as
well as of some of the mysteries of Mark Ambient's hearth and home.
I found afterwards that he had, in his study, between smiles and
cigar-smoke, some wonderful comparisons for his clerical neighbors; but
meanwhile the chrysanthemums were a source of harmony, for he and the
vicaress were equally fond of them, and I was surprised at the knowledge
they exhibited of this interesting plant. The lady's visit, however, had
presumably already been long, and she presently got up, saying she must
go, and kissed Mrs. Ambient Mark started to walk with her to the gate of
the grounds, holding Dolcino by the hand.

"Stay with me, my darling," Mrs. Ambient said to the boy, who was
wandering away with his father.

Mark Ambient paid no attention to the summons, but Dolcino turned round
and looked with eyes of shy entreaty at his mother. "Can't I go with
papa?"

"Not when I ask you to stay with me."