Free from the dreadful looking-for of the miscarried dinner, she would mind her seam, read her piety books, and take her walk (which was my lord's orders), sometimes by herself, sometimes with Archie, the only child of that scarce natural union.

The child was her next bond to life.

Her frosted sentiment bloomed again, she breathed deep of life, she let loose her heart, in that society.

The miracle of her motherhood was ever new to her.

The sight of the little man at her skirt intoxicated her with the sense of power, and froze her with the consciousness of her responsibility.