For here was a new, pure, beautiful, innocent life, which she fondly imagined, in that early passion of maternal love, she could guard from every touch of corrupting sin by ever watchful and most tender care.

And _her_ mother had thought the same, most probably; and thousands of others think the same, and pray to God to purify and cleanse their souls, that they may be fit guardians for their little children.

Oh, how Ruth prayed, even while she was yet too weak to speak; and how she felt the beauty and significance of the words, "Our Father!" She was roused from this holy abstraction by the sound of Miss Benson's voice.

It was very much as if she had been crying.
"Look, Ruth!" it said, softly, "my brother sends you these.

They are the first snowdrops in the garden." And she put them on the pillow by Ruth; the baby lay on the opposite side.
"Won't you look at him ?" said Ruth; "he is so pretty!" Miss Benson had a strange reluctance to see him.