You will find a little grave at the foot of the tall gum-tree; the water drips off the long, pointed leaves; you must cover it up with that." She moved restlessly as though in pain.
Gregory assented, and there was silence again.

It was the first time she had ever spoken of her child.
"It was so small," she said; "it lived such a little while--only three hours.

They laid it close by me, but I never saw it; I could feel it by me." She waited; "its feet were so cold; I took them in my hand to make them warm, and my hand closed right over them they were so little." There was an uneven trembling in the voice.

"It crept close to me; it wanted to drink, it wanted to be warm." She hardened herself--"I did not love it; its father was not my prince; I did not care for it; but it was so little." She moved her hand.

"They might have kissed it, one of them, before they put it in.