They passed the very milk-bush behind which so many years before the old German had found the Kaffer woman.
But their thoughts were not with him that morning: they were the thoughts of the young, that run out to meet the future, and labour in the present.

At last he touched her arm.
"What is it ?" "I feared you had gone to sleep and might be jolted out," he said; "you sat so quietly." "No; do not talk to me; I am not asleep;" but after a time she said suddenly: "It must be a terrible thing to bring a human being into the world." Waldo looked round; she sat drawn into the corner, her blue cloud wound tightly about her, and she still watched the horses' feet.

Having no comment to offer on her somewhat unexpected remark, he merely touched up his horses.
"I have no conscience, none," she added; "but I would not like to bring a soul into this world.

When it sinned and when it suffered something like a dead hand would fall on me--'You did it, you, for your own pleasure you created this thing! See your work!' If it lived to be eighty it would always hang like a millstone round my neck, have the right to demand good from me, and curse me for its sorrow.

A parent is only like to God--if his work turns out bad, so much the worse for him; he dare not wash his hands of it.