“There are some very hard-hearted people in the world.  Vingo was brought up in slavery; when you are a little older you will understand it better.”

“Dear mother, you know what is best for me; but often, when I am interested in what is said, and ask questions, people tell me I will understand it when I am a little older; and when I sit down by myself, and they think I have forgotten all about it, I find myself wishing I was “a little older,” for it disappoints me so much to leave a story not finished.”

Mrs. Grosvenor looked at the child in silence.

“I have not displeased you, dear mother, have I?  I did not feel that I was saying anything wrong.”

“No, darling; I did not think you would understand me, that was the reason why I did not explain to you.  I am always ready to talk with you, if you can comprehend what I am saying.”

“Never mind, mother, I am six years old; it won’t be a great while before I shall be ‘a little older,’ and then I can realize how very good you are to me, my dear mother, and how patient you are.”

Mrs. Grosvenor clasped the child in her arms.  “What makes little pet look so sober to-night?” asked Captain Grosvenor, as taking her on his knee, he pushed the dark brown curls from off her forehead, and looked into her mild, blue eyes.  “What makes Sea-flower so quiet?  Has anything happened to either of your seven kittens? or has some flower which has lived already a week longer than nature designed, at last withered, and gone the way of all frailties?”

“O, father, I should be very wicked if I were not happy, when I have so much to make me so; but sometimes, when I hear the shore roaring so loud as it does this evening, and look up at the stars, as they twinkle in their homes far away in the sky, there is something which comes over me of sadness, making me a great deal happier; and there is one particular star which I always notice, for it seems as if it was looking down at me so gently, that I forget myself, and put out my hand to touch it, as if it was not so far away; and I fancy sometimes that the star can read my thoughts, for it seems to smile when I am happiest.”

“You are a little fanciful creature; you must learn to leave off dreaming when you are awake.”

“What shall you dream about when father goes away to sea again?” asked Harry.

“I think mother will not let him go; we cannot spare him; but if you should go, father, I shall love to dream of you very often; I will think of you every day, sailing on the water with a heart so light.  O, it must be so pleasant to live, to sleep on the water!  And you will want to see dear mother and Harry, when you are so far away; you will not forget us;” and she hid her cheek in the hardy captain’s bosom.

“No, no, darling, I shan’t forget you; but we wont talk any more about it now; I have not gone yet.”

What was it made that stout man’s voice tremulous, as he called for his evening paper?  Many a time had that stern voice been heard above the hurricane’s roar, giving the word of command,—­why did it tremble now?  Was it that voice of childhood which sank into his heart?