"In a few hours she will be taken from me; in a few short hours we shall be separated, and then, and then--ah, how can I know it and live!--an ocean of waters will divide us. She will not miss me; she does not know me. She will receive another woman's endearments; she will never bestow a thought upon me, her wretched mother, and I--I shall be for ever thinking of her! She is all my own now; presently I shall have no claim upon her. Would it not be better to end it as I had intended--to end it now, this moment!" She rose to her feet, and stood with her lips tightly pressed and her hands convulsively clenched; and then she cried in horror, "No, no! I dare not--I dare not! It would be murder, and he said that God would not forgive me. Oh, my darling, my darling, it is merciful that you are a baby, and do not know what is passing in my mind! If you do not love me now, you may in the future, when I shall be free, and then you shall feel how different is a mother's love from the love of a strange woman. But how shall I recognise you if you are a woman before we meet again--how shall I prove to you, to the world, that you are truly mine? Your eyes will be black, as mine are, and your hair, I hope, will be as dark, but there are thousands like that. I am grateful that you resemble me, and not your base father, whom I pray God to strike and punish. Oh, that it were ever in my power to repay him for his treachery, to say to him, 'As you dragged me down, so do I drag you down! As you ruined my life, so do I ruin yours!' But I cannot hope for that. The woman weeps, the man laughs. Never mind, child, never mind. If in future years we are reunited, it will be happiness enough. Dark hair, black eyes, small hands and feet. Oh, darling, darling!" She covered the little hands and feet with kisses. "And yes, yes"--with feverish eagerness she gazed at the child's neck--"these two tiny moles, like those on my neck. I shall know you, I shall know you, I shall be able to prove that you are my daughter!" With a lighter heart she resumed her seat, and set to work mending the infant's scanty clothing, which she fondled and kissed as though it had sense and feeling. A church clock in the distance tolled five. She had been listening for the hour, hoping it was earlier. "Five o'clock!" she muttered. "I thought it was not later than three. I am being robbed. Oh, if time would only stand still! Five o'clock! In seven hours she will be taken from me. Seven hours--seven short hours! I will not close my eyes." But after awhile her lids drooped, and she was not conscious of it. The abnormal fatigues of the day and night, the relaxing of the overstrung nerves, the warmth of the room, produced their effect; her head sank upon the bed, and she fell into a dreamful sleep.