I've got to see to the baby.

The east room was the one you were born in.

I remember your ma saying she loved to see the sunrise; and I mind hearing that you was born just as the sun was rising and its light on your face was the first thing your ma saw." Anne went up the narrow stairs and into that little east room with a full heart.

It was as a shrine to her.

Here her mother had dreamed the exquisite, happy dreams of anticipated motherhood; here that red sunrise light had fallen over them both in the sacred hour of birth; here her mother had died.