"
So did the Sea-flower gather together the broken threads of this family,
weaving them closer with that golden thread of tender remembrance of him
who had gone to await them for a little in that happier home above; this
family, of which she had never the slightest suspicion but that they
were of her own flesh and blood; and as she sat with her hand clasped
within that of her mother's, reading from that blessed book, "Come unto
me all ye that are weary," Mrs. Grosvenor could not but notice the
striking resemblance which she bore to those lovely features of the
miniature, which was found within the golden band. The child was growing
to resemble her unknown mother, and were there any who had ever known
the parents, to see their child, they could not but have discovered her
descent. As the thought came to Mrs. Grosvenor's mind, she shuddered;
and she asked herself if it could ever be that her darling should be
torn from her? if another cloud would arise, hiding one more cherished
one from her sight? But why should she tremble at the thought? she well
knew there could be nothing, not even the discovery of relatives, which
could lessen her daughter's love for her mother.
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