er duty to
remind her, by look or tone, of the sorrow connected with her child's
birth.

"Look at him, Nance. See these lovely little feet, and there's strong
he is!"

"Yes, druan bach,[1] he is a beautiful boy, indeed," she would answer
with a sigh, drawing her wrinkled finger over the fresh soft cheek.

Valmai began to chafe at the want of brightness which surrounded her
little one's life. She was proud of him, and wished to take him into
the village.

"No, my child," said Nance gently, "you had better not."

"Why not?" was on Valmai's lips, but she hesitated. A deep blush
crimsoned her face. "My boy has nothing to be ashamed of," she said,
with a proud toss of her head.

"When is he to be christened?" was Nance's next question.

"September."

"September!" gasped the old woman, "he will be three months old; and
what if anything should happen to him before then?"

"Nothing _shall_ happen to him," said Valmai, folding him to her heart.
"My life and my body are larger than his, and they will both have to go
before any harm reaches him."

"There's a foolish thing to say," said Nance, "and I wonder at you,
merch i. You ought to know by this time that we are clay in the hands
of the Potter. Little heart, he ought to be christened, and have a
name of his own."

"He can be 'Baby' till September, and then he will be christened."

"And why, September, child?"

Here Valmai took refuge in that silence which had been her only
resource since Cardo's departure. She would be perfectly silent. She
would make no answer to inquiries or taunts, but would wait patiently
until he returned. September! What glowing pictures of happiness the
word brought before her mind's eye. Once more to stroll with Cardo by
Berwen banks! Once more to linger in the sunshine, and rest in the
shade; to listen to the Berwen's prattling, to the whispering of the
sea-breeze. Such happiness, she thought, was all in store for her when
Cardo came home in September; and the words, "When Cardo comes home in
September," rang in her ears, and filled her heart and soul. Yes, the
long weary months of waiting, the sorrow and the pain, the cruel words,
and the sneering glances, were all coming to an end. She had kept her
promise, and had never spoken a word to implicate Cardo, or to suggest
that the bond of marriage had united them. He would come home, at
latest in a year, and remove every sorrow; and life would be one long
shining path of