Cynthia turned her rocking-chair round so as to face the open door.

She looked on while the little creatures were being undressed; she heard the few words they lisped as their infant prayer, she saw them laid in their beds, and heard their pretty good-night.
A lone woman to whom all the sweet cares of maternity have been denied cannot look upon a sight like this without feeling the void in her own heart where a mother's affection should have nestled.

Cynthia sat perfectly still, without rocking, and watched kind Mrs.Hopkins at her quasi parental task.

A tear stole down her rigid face as she saw the rounded limbs of the children bared in their white beauty, and their little heads laid on the pillow.

They were sleeping quietly when Mrs.
Hopkins left the room for a moment on some errand of her own.