Was it sickness?
Was it death?
There was nothing for her but to bear and to wait; and God had sent this tiny messenger of love to help and comfort her in her weary waiting.

She still believed that Cardo would return; he had promised, and if he were living he would keep his promise--of this she felt certain.

Secure from the sneers and scornful glances of the world, alone in Nance's cottage, her heart awoke afresh to the interests of life.

Her baby boy was bright and strong, and she watched with delight his growing likeness to Cardo; the black hair, the black eyes, and the curve on the rosebud mouth, which reminded her so much of his smile.

Nance wondered much at the girl's cheerfulness, and sometimes felt it her duty to remind her, by look or tone, of the sorrow connected with her child's birth.
"Look at him, Nance.