The woman did not look over that small
head, but bent above it, and gazed into the baby face.
The crimson rambler had grown right across the picture, and formed a
glowing arch above mother and child. A majesty of tenderness was in
the large figure of the mother. The face, as regarded contour and
features, was no less plain; but again it was transfigured, by the
mother-love thereon depicted. You knew "The Wife" had more than
fulfilled her abundant promise. The wife was there in fullest
realisation; and, added to wifehood, the wonder of motherhood. All
mysteries were explained; all joys experienced; and the smile on her
calm lips, bespoke ineffable content.
A rambler rose had burst above them, and fallen in a shower of
crimson petals upon mother and child. The baby-fingers clasped
tightly the soft lace at her bosom. A petal had fallen upon the tiny
wrist. She had lifted her hand to remove it; and, catching the baby-
eyes, so dark and shining, paused for a moment, and smiled.
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