On the 5th of September, Ossoli was “at her side,” and together, with glad and grateful hearts, they welcomed their boy; though the father was compelled to return the next day to Rome.  Even then, however, a new chapter of sorrows was opening.  By indiscreet treatment, Margaret was thrown into violent fever, and became unable to nurse her child.  Her waiting maid, also, proved so treacherous, that she was forced to dismiss her, and wished “never to set eyes on her more;” and the family, with whom she was living, displayed most detestable meanness.  Thus helpless, ill, and solitary, she could not even now enjoy the mother’s privilege.  Yet she writes cheerfully:—­“My present nurse is a very good one, and I feel relieved.  We must have courage but it is a great care, alone and ignorant, to guard an infant in its first days of life.  He is very pretty for his age; and, without knowing what name I intended giving him, the people in the house call him Angiolino, because he is so lovely.”  Again:—­“He is so dear!  It seems to me, among all disasters and difficulties, that if he lives and is well, he will become a treasure for us two, that will compensate us for everything.”  And yet again:—­“This ——­ is faithless, like the rest.  Spite of all his promises, he will not bring the matter to inoculate Nino, though, all about us, persons are dying with small-pox.  I cannot sleep by night, and I weep by day, I am so disgusted; but you are too far off to help me.  The baby is more beautiful every hour.  He is worth all the trouble he causes me,—­poor child that I am,—­alone here, and abused by everybody.”

Yet new struggles; new sorrows!  Ossoli writes:—­

“Our affairs must be managed with the utmost caution imaginable, since my thought would be to keep the baby out of Rome for the sake of greater secrecy, if only we can find a good nurse who will take care of him like a mother.”  To which Margaret replies:—­“He is always so charming, how can I ever, ever leave him!  I wake in the night,—­I look at him.  I think:  Ah, it is impossible!  He is so beautiful and good, I could die for him!” Once more:—­“In seeking rooms, do not pledge me to remain in Rome, for it seems to me, often, I cannot stay long without seeing the boy.  He is so dear, and life seems so uncertain.  It is necessary that I should be in Rome a month, at least, to write, and also to be near you.  But I must be free to return here, if I feel too anxious and suffering for him.  O, love! how difficult is life!  But thou art good!  If it were only possible to make thee happy!” And, finally, “Signora speaks very highly of ——­, the nurse of Angelo, and says that her aunt is an excellent woman, and that the brothers are all good.  Her conduct pleases me well.  This consoles me a little, in the prospect of leaving my child, if that is necessary.”