heaved up and down, and sometimes they would smile, and sometimes they
would moan and sigh. But Jesus did none of all these things: was it
not strange? And then he was cold--oh, so cold!

A blue silk coverlid lay on the bed: she half rose and dragged it off,
and contrived to wind it around herself and the baby. Sad at heart,
very sad, but undismayed, she sat and watched him on her lap.




CHAPTER VI.


Meantime the morning of Christmas Day grew. The light came and filled
the house. The sleepers slept late, but at length they stirred. Alice
awoke last--from a troubled sleep, in which the events of the night
mingled with her own lost condition and destiny. After all Polly had
been kind, she thought, and got Sophy up without disturbing her.

She had been but a few minutes down, when a strange and appalling
rumour made itself--I cannot say audible, but--somehow known through
the house, and every one hurried up in horrible dismay.

The nurse had gone into the spare room, and missed the little dead
thing she had laid there. The bed was between her and Phosy, and she
never saw her. The doctor had been sharp with her about something the
night before: she now took her revenge in suspicion of him, and after
a hasty and fruitless visit of inquiry to the kitchen, hurried to Mr.
Greatorex.