My mother loves me more way off in heaven than that woman loves Her own child on earth.

She doesn't feel.

She just rocks, and thinks how She looks.

I hate Her! Let me go!" With that Maria was out of the room, and ran violently up-stairs.
When she had gone, the three visiting women looked at one another, and the same covert expression of gratified malice, at some one having spoken out what was in their inmost hearts, was upon all three faces.

Ida was impassive, with her smiling lips contracted.