You cannot love me, mamma, or you would not treat me like this.' 'Love you! Oh, my child! If you knew! If you could understand! Why am I doing this?
Is it not because I feel it to be my duty?
Will you let me take you to your bed ?' 'No, never.

I, too, can do my duty,--my duty to my husband.

It is to remain here till I can get to him, even though I should die.' Then she turned her poor limbs on the hard floor, and the mother covered her with a cloak and placed a cushion beneath her head.

Then, after standing a while over her child, she returned to her chair, and did not move or speak again till the old cook came, with the first glimmer of the morning, to inquire how the night had been passed.
'I cannot allow this; I cannot allow this,' said Mr.Bolton, when he shuffled down in his slippers.

The old servant had been up to him and had warned him that such sufferings as these might have a tragic end,--too probably an end fatal to the infant.