He will give me my youth back again, ay, he will." And she sang out a French chanson, something about "la liberte et ses plaisirs, la jeunesse, l'amour." The mother grew sterner--any such wife and mother would.

Then and there, compassion might have died out of even her good heart, had it not been for the sudden noise over-head of children's feet--children's chattering.

Once more the pitiful thought came--"She has no children." "Caroline," she said, catching her gown as she passed, "when I was with you, you had a child which only breathed and died.

It died spotless.
When you die, how dare you meet that little baby ?" The singing changed to sobbing.

"I had forgotten.