A short time ago he had said that his cousin found no likeness between his child and her mother, and Cornelli had observed the sad expression of his eyes when he had said it.
Cornelli shook her head.

"You said once that my mother was different from anybody," she said.

"So I can't ever be like her; you said so yourself, Martha." "Yes, yes, I have said that," confirmed Martha.

"But I have to explain something to you, Cornelli.

If you can't become exactly like your mother, you certainly can become more like her than anybody else, for you are her child, and a child always has something from her mother.
I have seen you look at me just the way she did, with the same brown eyes; but not when you frown the way you do to-day.