'" The motherly hand trembled, and the lady's voice faltered
as she said, "Star, my dear sister's name was Helena, too. Is not
that strange, my little one?"
The child looked curiously at her. "Where is your dear sister?" she
asked. "Why do you cry when you say her name? is she naughty?"
"Listen, Star," said the lady, wiping the tears from her eyes, and
striving to speak composedly.
"My sister made a voyage to Europe, with her husband and her little
baby. They spent the summer travelling in beautiful countries; and
in the autumn, in September, Star, ten years ago this very
year,--think of it, my dear!--they sailed for home. They came in a
sailing-vessel, because the sea-voyage was thought good for your--for
my sister. And--and--the vessel was never heard from. There was a
terrible storm and many vessels were lost in it."
"Just like my poor mamma's ship," said the child. "Perhaps it was
the same storm. Do you think--why do you look at me so?" she cried,
breaking off suddenly.
But the lady put both arms round her and drew her close, close, while
her tears fell fast on the golden hair. "My darling!" she cried, "my
dear, dear little one! It _was_ the same storm; the same storm and
the same ship.
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