"Why did I come here?
Why did I bring my child ill and dying from a shelter, and carry her through the night air, until I found a home in your lonely cabin?
Do you know why ?" she continued with bitterness.

"It was because I was a beggar, and could not pay the demands of the rich." "Poh lady!" ejaculated the old woman.

"Whar is your husband." "My husband ?" she replied.

"Ah! where is he?
Oh, God!" she continued wildly.

"Where is he now while his child lies dead through destitution, and his wife feels the brand of the _thief_ imprinted upon her forehead?
Why is he not here to succor the infant boy who yet remains, and who may soon follow his sister?
Oh, God! Oh, God! that he should be far away, and I be here gazing on the dead body of my child--dead through my neglect to procure her proper medical attendance; dead through the destitution of her mother." "Nebber mind, missis," observed the old negro soothingly, "De chile is gone to heaben, whar it wont suffer any more." "Peace!" exclaimed Mrs.Wentworth passionately.