"Eh, but it's what's coming that upsets me, ma'am.Eh, what suffering for my pretty lamb, and her that wouldn't have hurt a worm! Baby would be about six months old when she came in one day with him in her arms, and they /were/ a picture.His little hand was fast in her hair.She always walked as if she'd wheels on her feet, that gliding and graceful.She had on a sort of sheeny yellow silk, and her cheeks were like them damask roses at home, and her eyes fair shone like stars.'Isn't he a beauty, Nana?' she asked me.'If only he had blue eyes, and that hair of gold like my husband's, and not these ugly eyes of mine!' And as she spoke she sighed as I dreaded to hear.Then she told me to help her to unpack her new dressfrom Paris, which she was to wear at the Rochester races the next day.Master Horace always chose her dresses, and he was right proud of her in them.And next morning he came into the nursery with her, and she was all in pale red, and that beautiful! 'Isn't she scrumptious, Nana?' he said, in his boyish way.'Don't spoil her dress, children.How like her Marie grows!' Those two little ones they had got her on her knees on the ground, and were hugging her as if they couldn't let her go.But when he said that, she got up very still and white.
"'I am sorry,' she said; 'they must never be like me.'
"'They can't be any one better, can they, baby?' he answered her, and he tossed the child nearly up to the ceiling.But he looked worried as he went out.I saw them drive away, and they looked happy enough.And oh, miss, I saw them come back.We were in the porch, me and the children.Master Horace lifted her down, and I heard him say, 'Never mind, Marie.' But she never looked his way nor ours; she walked straight in and upstairs to her room, past my bonny darling with his arm stretched out to her, and past Miss Marie, who was jumping up and down, and shouting 'Muvver'; and I heard her door shut.Then Master Horace took baby from me.
"'Go up to her,' he said, and I could scarce hear him.His face was all drawn like, but I felt that silly and stupid that I could say nothing, and just went upstairs." Mrs.Bentley put her knitting down, and throwing her apron over her head sobbed aloud.
"O nurse, what was it?" cried Alice, and the colour left her cheeks."Do tell me.I am so sorry for them.What was it?" It was several minutes before the good woman could recover herself; then she began:
