ruled us with a rod of iron, and yet we worshipped her. I have
wondered to see her so meek of late. I never thought she would be
satisfied with a brick-floored cottage and a husband of failing
wits. But no one, to my knowledge, has ever heard a complaint from
her lips; and the dignity of her afflicted wife-hood has far
transcended the haughtiness of those days when she had but to
smile to have all the youth of Portchester at her feet."

"I suppose it was the loss of so many children that reconciled her
to a quiet life. A woman cannot close the eyes of six children,
one after the other, without some modification taking place in her
character."

"Yes, she and Philemon have been unfortunate; but she was a
splendid looking girl, boys. I never see such grand-looking women
now."

In a little one-storied cottage on the hillside a woman was
nursing a baby and talking at the same time of Agatha Webb.

"I shall never forget the night my first baby fell sick," she
faltered; "I was just out of bed myself, and having no nearer
neighbours then than now, I was all alone on the hillside, Alec
being away at sea. I was too young to know much about sickness,
but something told me that I must have help before morning or my
baby would die. Though I could just walk across the floor, I threw
a shawl around me, took my baby in my arms, and opened the door. A
blinding gust of rain blew in. A terrible storm was raging and I
had not noticed it, I was so taken up with the child.