Perhaps I am.

I can't think o' that for remembering how I've suffered; and he knew how miserable I was, and might ha' cleared my misery away wi' a word; and he held his peace, and now it's too late! I'm sick o' men and their cruel, deceitful ways.

I wish I were dead.' She was crying before she had ended this speech, and seeing her tears, the child began to cry too, stretching out its little arms to go back to its mother.

The hard stony look on her face melted away into the softest, tenderest love as she clasped the little one to her, and tried to soothe its frightened sobs.
A bright thought came into the old man's mind.
He had been taking a complete dislike to her till her pretty way with her baby showed him that she had a heart of flesh within her.
'Poor little one!' said he, 'thy mother had need love thee, for she's deprived thee of thy father's love.

Thou'rt half-way to being an orphan; yet I cannot call thee one of the fatherless to whom God will be a father.