Barbara proudly left her home to be Mrs. Austin's maid, but she only filled that post until the first child was born, and then her mistress said, "Nobody will love and care for my baby like you." So the maid became the nurse, and through all the years that followed, with their joys and sorrows, she remained faithful to the trust reposed in her, and gave the children a love second only to that she lavished on her mistress. Considered of the first importance in the household, Barbara had no enemies amongst the servants, for she bore herself wisely, giving offence to none in word or deed, but by her example shaming wrong-doers and encouraging the weak who wished to do right. Treated with friendship and confidence by her mistress, she never presumed on these or forgot the social difference between them. But Mrs. Austin knew that in Barbara she had such a friend, and from her such devotion to herself and her children as no wealth alone could buy; and she valued these things accordingly, and gave back love for love. "Sit down, Barbara," she said. "I want a quiet talk with you about Margery. Do not take your work, I want every bit of help and sympathy you can give me in a difficult matter. Nay, come closer, and let me hold your hand, Barbara; it makes me feel stronger. May God help me! I am so lonely and so perplexed!" The nurse drew a lower seat close by that of her mistress, and taking Mrs. Austin's delicate white hand in hers, she kissed it again and again, then holding it in both her own, she said, "Surely, dear mistress, there is no fresh trouble! Tell me what is on your mind. If my life would buy you happiness, or make my darling Miss Margery's face glow with health again, you know I would give it." "I do know, Barbara; and that expressions which from most lips would mean nothing, mean all that is said when they come from yours. Now listen: Jane Gresham has put an idea into my mind which may prove a seed for blessing to spring from. You must say what you think of it." Then Mrs. Austin told the nurse all that had passed between her and Jane. Barbara listened attentively, but did not at once answer, when asked by her mistress, "What had best be done?" "It is hard to say," she replied, after an interval of silence. "There are sense and reason in Jane Gresham's advice, but it is an awful risk to run. You may get a pretty and healthy child, so far as the body is concerned, but one that has been trained by a good and loving mother, a lady like yourself, would not be easy to find. Such mothers do not give away their treasures." "I must not expect perfection, Barbara, but a child of seven years, even if not brought up with all the care my children have had, would be easy to lead, and could be moulded at will."