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and hanging her face still deeper in his bosom--"I know it is naughty,
dear Mama says so--and bids me love my Papa!"
"And why cannot you love him, my child?"
"Oh Uncle, he frightens me so --he looks so strange at me, and he scolds
me, and once he whipped me--indeed--indeed I can't love him. And
then, he frightens poor Mama worse yet--and he scolds her too--poor
Mama, she cries so sometimes, it makes me cry too."
D'aubigne wiped away the tears from the cheeks of the little Rosa
tho' he could scarcely restrain his own. He was excessively shocked, by
the child's artless but sad account, and felt the deepest anxiety to know more,
but was too honorable to attempt drawing it from Rosa. Had he
had the least suspicion of the fact, related by the child, he would not
have put such a question, and now remained silent and thoughtful.
"But I love you," said the little creature twining her arms
tightly round his neck, "I love you, dearly, and will never let you leave
us."
"And why do you love me Rosa?"
"Because you love me," said the artless child," and because you are good,"
"How do you know I am good?"
Rosa, for a moment looked steadily in his eyes--and then said, "that
is the way I know you are good--that is the way Mama knows
when I am good."
"Explain," said d'Aubigne, "I do not understand you."
"Why," said Rosa, "I see you are good through your eyes--don't
you know the eyes are the windows that the soul looks out of, just
like you look out of this window; so, you know any one in the garden
could look in, and see you through the window, and I can look through
your eyes and see your soul. Yes indeed, the very first
day you came here, I saw the goodness shining out of your eyes."
"And when you are naughty, can your Mama tell, by looking in
your eyes?"
"Oh yes, Mama always calls me to her, when she comes home and she
says, "Let me look in your eyes Rosa, and see if you have been good while
I was away. And then if I am good, I open my eyes wide for her to look
in--but if I have been naughty, I shut em close up, not to let

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