As she fought desperately for her child’s life, the girl for the first time in her own, lost herself in supreme self-forgetfulness, and then at last the latent truth in her nature broke through its bonds and unfolded itself hour by hour, and overpowered though she was by grief and terror on the child’s account, Mrs. Fellowes blessed God and rejoiced. The splendid reserves of the girl’s tenderness, her lovely frank abandonment to her new-found motherhood, fairly staggered the elder woman. She could hardly keep control over herself, she felt so small, so humble, so absolutely unfit to do as she ought to do. There was to her something most holy, most reverent in the awakening of this virgin mother, she felt almost indecent in her greedy absorption of its regal loveliness, and this time God did stay His hand and His heart inclined itself to mercy. Seven days after the beginning of the illness a little ray of hope set to play in the doctor’s eyes, and sent a wave of new sweet life rushing through Gwen’s veins. The next day, and the next, this grew and strengthened, and at the end of the day after that the doctor spoke with perfect confidence, and he added, “I never until now knew exactly how much a mother’s love can do, Lady Strange. You are an incomparable nurse.” When he went away Gwen still knelt by the cot, with moist eyes, and looked at the baby, who suddenly stirred, and awoke, and began to watch her in that terrible all-knowing way babies have, then a little wavering ghost of a smile touched its mouth. Gwen waited with parted lips, and the smile grew and took proper tangible human shape, till the tender mouth gave a little tremble with it and the eyes widened, and suddenly, to Mrs. Fellowes’ horror, Gwen fell back against her in a dead swoon. When she had recovered and they had brought her to her room, she fell asleep at once, and it was midnight when she awoke. She got up directly and stole softly out to see her baby, who was sleeping peacefully with Mrs. Fellowes on guard. “He couldn’t possibly be better,” she whispered, “you must go back to bed at once.” “And you—you must too, you look green with tiredness.” She knelt down by the cot with a little soft cooing sound that half frightened herself, she turned her head to find out where it came from, when she knew she smiled up at Mrs. Fellowes, and her eyes were radiant with a sweet mystery. When she came in to see her baby next morning she carried a telegram she had just written, in her hand. It was to Strange and very simple. “Will you come?” it said, “we want you, baby and I.” “Read it,” she said to Mrs. Fellowes, “and will you send it yourself?” She stooped over the cot for a long time, and nothing was to be seen of her but the tips of two pink ears. CHAPTER XLII.