But, Miss Betty," continued the parson in
deepening tones, as he pounded his left palm with his right fist for
want of a pulpit, "If you ask me whether I believe any child of any race
is born incapable of improvement, and beyond benefit from the charities
we owe to each other, I should deny my faith if I could say yes. I shall
not, madam, confuse the end of your connection with him with the end of
your training in him, even if he runs away, or fancy that I see the one
because I see the other. I do not pretend to know how much evil he
inherits from his forefathers as accurately as our graphic friend; but I
do know that he has a Father whose image is also to be found in His
children--not quite effaced in any of them--and whose care of this one
will last when yours, madam, may seem to have been in vain."
As the little ladies rushed forward and each shook a hand of the parson,
he felt some compunction for his speech.
"I fear I am encouraging you in grave indiscretion," said he. "But,
indeed, my dear ladies, I am quite against your project, for you do not
realize the anxieties and disappointments that are before you, I am
sure. The child will give you infinite trouble. I think he will run
away. And yet I cannot in good conscience say that I believe love's
labour must be lost. He may return to the woods and wilds; but I hope he
will carry something with him.
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