"Let me take him, papa," she said.
The father had no intention of giving up the child. But before he knew,
Mark had stretched his arms to Hester, and was out of his into hers.
Instinctively trying to retain him, he hurt him, and the boy gave a
little cry. Thereupon with a new pang of pain, and a new sting of
resentment, which he knew unreasonable but could not help, he let him go
and followed in distressed humiliation.
Hester's heart was very sore because of this new grief, but she saw some
hope in it.
"He is too heavy for you, Hester," said her father. "Surely as it is my
fault, I ought to bear the penalty!"
"It's no penalty--is it, Markie?" said Hester merrily.
"No, Hessie," replied Mark, almost merrily. "--You don't know how strong
Hessie is, papa!"
"Yes, I am very strong. And you ain't heavy--are you, Markie?"
"No," answered Mark; "I feel so light sometimes, I think I could fly;
only I don't like to try for fear I couldn't. I like to think perhaps I
could."
By and by Hester found, with all her good will, that her strength was of
the things that can be shaken, and was obliged to yield him to her
father.
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