nd the body were struck with this.

"What will be done with it?" she asked.

"It will go to the dead-house at the work-house," said the
superintendent, "and the parish will bury it."

Then I stood forward.

"No!" I cried; "if the authorities will permit, I will take upon myself
the expense of burying that little child--it shall not have a pauper's
funeral; it shall be buried in the beautiful green cemetery in the Lewes
Road, and it shall have a white marble cross at the head of its grave."

"You are very good, sir," said the superintendent, and the pitiful woman
cried out:

"Heaven bless you, sir! I would do the same thing myself if I could
afford it."

"There must be an inquest," said some one in the crowd; "we ought to
know whether the child was dead before it was thrown into the water."

"I hope to Heaven it was!" cried the woman.

And I said to myself that, if that were the case, it would not be
murder--not murder, but some mad, miserable mother's way out of some
dreadful difficulty.

Surely on the beautiful, despairing face I had not seen the brand of
murder. If the little one had been dead, that would lessen the degree of
wickedness so greatly.

The woman who had dried and kissed the tiny waxen face bent over it now.

"I am sure," she said, "that the child was alive when it touched the
water."

"How do you know?" asked the superintendent, curiously.

"Look at the face, sir, and you will see."

"I see nothing," he replied.

"I do," she said. "I see just what you would see on the face of a baby
suddenly plunged into cold water. I see the signs of faint, baby
surprise. Look at the baby brows and the little hand spread wide open.
It was living when it touched the water, I am sure of that."

"A doctor will soon settle that question," said the superintendent.

Then the little one was carried by rough but not ungentle hands to the
dead-house on the hill. I went with it. I overheard the superintendent
tell the master of the work-house that I was a rich man--an invalid--and
that I passed a great deal of my time at Brighton. In a lowered voice he
added that I was very eccentric, and that happening to be on the Chain
Pier that morning, I had insisted upon paying the expenses of the little
funeral.

"A kind, Christian gentlemen," the master said. "I am glad to hear it."

I shall never forget the pitiful sight of that tiny white form laid on
the table alone--quite alone--I could not forget it. The matr