Sammy was the idol of her heart. She forgot everything when she had him in her arms, and she felt that the whole world might go to ruin as long as this blue-eyed darling was left untouched, safe on the tender bosom of his mother. In her daily life she adapted all things to suit the living of her child, and never knew a happy moment when she was away from his side. The first thing in the morning the child was brought down to her bedroom, and sprawled on the coverlet, while she lay looking at him with happy eyes, babbling fond nonsense suited to his baby understanding. When he slept in the morning she sat beside his crib watching the flushed little face, the tangled golden curls, and the tiny dimpled hands. She went out with him for his daily drive, accompanied by Mrs. Tasker, and would hardly let that worthy woman touch him, so jealous she was of his liking for anyone save herself. He played at her feet for hours, and she sat beside him in a low chair singing tender little songs, playing baby games, amusing him with his toys, and when he grew fretful with wakefulness, lulled him to sleep on her breast. Every hour of the day she found some new perfection in him, she was never tired of talking about his clever ways, his infantile wisdom, his loving disposition, and when he was laid to rest at night, she hung over him like an enamoured lover breathing blessings on his unconscious head. The world will doubtless laugh at such tender devotion, at such intense absorption in an unformed infant, but no one but a woman, no one but a mother, can understand the wondrous power of maternal love that dominates every other feeling in the feminine heart. All the passion of lovers, the ecstacies of poets, the blind adoration of men for those they love, pale before this strongest of all feelings implanted in the human breast. Perhaps some will say that self-preservation is stronger, but this is not so, as a mother in an extreme case will sacrifice her life for that of her child, thereby proving the superiority of the maternal feeling. In this worship of the child she forgot earth, she forgot heaven, she forgot God. And God punished her. Sammy was cutting his teeth, and was feverish and fretful for some days, but although every care was lavished upon him neither Alizon nor Mrs. Tasker deemed the illness to be anything worse than a slight infantile malady. But one evening, Alizon bending over his sleeping form, saw his face grow black, his little limbs begin to twitch, and in a moment the poor child was in strong convulsions. Pale with terror, she shrieked for Mrs. Tasker and sent off a groom at once for the village doctor who had attended to Sammy since his birth. Mrs. Tasker, terribly anxious, yet restraining herself so as not to affright the agonised mother, did what she could under the circumstances and placed the child in a hot bath. The doctor arrived as quickly as possible, but he was too late--the child was dead. Dead!