'Yes. I grant it. But not altogether.' 'No, perhaps that need not have been; but the father thinks differently. If he takes her to live with him, what can you do? Can you go to him, uninvited? Will he recognise you as his wife? The situation will be most untoward for yourself, for him, for Winefred. You must weigh this well.' 'I do weigh it. I will not be parted from her for ever. If she is made a lady, let me look on her. Let me see her from afar off. But see her I must, or it will kill me. She is my child.' Jane looked half fiercely, half imploringly into her visitor's face. 'You do not understand what it is to be a mother――and a mother of one child. She lives for one thing only――her child. She has but one pride――her child; one hope――her child. She cannot do without her. Look you. There is a woman at Seaton, a widow. She lost her son, her only son. He clambered after gulls' eggs, fell over the cliffs, and was dashed to pieces. Thenceforth she is no more a woman, she is a moving image. She has no soul, no heart, no life more, nothing in the world to hope for, nothing in the world to love, nothing even to fear. All her life died out in her when she lost her son. I have a daughter. She lives. I may not be with her always. I am content for her sake that it shall be so. But not to see her, never to hear her speak, not again to feel her arms round me, and to rock her head on my bosom!――I could not bear it. Promise me but this, twenty years hence I shall kiss her, and I will live in that single hope――but never――never――――' She cast herself at full length on the ground and burst into a rage of tears. 'I have sinned――I have sold my soul for this!――to this have I been brought by my wickedness!' was what she wailed. Then she gathered herself up in a crouching position. 'I have not heard all. There is something more. After where my pin broke.' 'There is no need. You have the substance.' 'I will have it. Read me the last lines.' 'I will not do so,' exclaimed Mrs. Jose in desperation. Then the unfortunate mother tore at the letter, and ripped away the conclusion. 'I have it,' she said, 'I will go with it to Olver Dench. He will read it to me.' 'No――no. Give it me. Rather than that I will read.' 'It must be read,' said Jane, surrendering the fragment. Then falteringly Mrs. Jose read, '"In this Winefred fully concurs."' 'Concurs!――she agrees!' cried Jane Marley, and again flung herself on the floor and writhed like a bruised worm. Mrs. Jose knelt by her, stroked her hair, wiped the tears from her eyes, patted her――uttering kind words; but it was long before she could assuage the paroxysms of grief and despair.