"_You_ have come here," cried Janet, pointing with a tragic gesture to
the dead child,--"_you_, to gloat over your husband's work. All my life
you have hated and scorned and despised me. Your presence here insults
me and my dead. What are you doing here?"
"Mrs. Miller," returned Mrs. Carteret tremulously, dazed for a moment by
this outburst, and clasping her hands with an imploring gesture, "my
child, my only child, is dying, and your husband alone can save his
life. Ah, let me have my child," she moaned, heart-rendingly. "It is my
only one--my sweet child--my ewe lamb!"
"This was _my_ only child!" replied the other mother; "and yours is no
better to die than mine!"
"You are young," said Mrs. Carteret, "and may yet have many
children,--this is my only hope! If you have a human heart, tell your
husband to come with me. He leaves it to you; he will do as you
command."
"Ah," cried Janet, "I have a human heart, and therefore I will not let
him go. _My_ child is dead--O God, my child, my child!"
She threw herself down by the bedside, sobbing hysterically. The other
woman knelt beside her, and put her arm about her neck. For a moment
Janet, absorbed in her grief, did not repulse her. "Listen," pleaded
Mrs. Carteret. "You will not let my baby die? You are my sister;--the
child is your own near kin!"
"My child was nearer," returned Janet, rising again to her feet and
shaking off the other woman's arm. "He was my son, and I have seen him
die.
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