When I was of Eva's age, they thought I was in a consumption.

Night after night, Mammy used to sit up with me.
O! Eva's cough is not anything." "But she gets weak, and is short-breathed." "Law! I've had that, years and years; it's only a nervous affection." "But she sweats so, nights!" "Well, I have, these ten years.

Very often, night after night, my clothes will be wringing wet.

There won't be a dry thread in my night-clothes and the sheets will be so that Mammy has to hang them up to dry! Eva doesn't sweat anything like that!" Miss Ophelia shut her mouth for a season.

But, now that Eva was fairly and visibly prostrated, and a doctor called, Marie, all on a sudden, took a new turn.
"She knew it," she said; "she always felt it, that she was destined to be the most miserable of mothers.