So passed away the first days of Alice’s widowhood.  Bye-and-bye things subsided into their natural and tranquil course.  But, as if this young creature was always to be in some heavy trouble, her ewe-lamb began to be ailing, pining and sickly.  The child’s mysterious illness turned out to be some affection of the spine likely to affect health; but not to shorten life—­at least so the doctors said.  But the long dreary suffering of one whom a mother loves as Alice loved her only child, is hard to look forward to.  Only Norah guessed what Alice suffered; no one but God knew.

And so it fell out, that when Mrs. Wilson, the elder, came to her one day in violent distress, occasioned by a very material diminution in the value the property that her husband had left her,—­a diminution which made her income barely enough to support herself, much less Alice—­the latter could hardly understand how anything which did not touch health or life could cause such grief; and she received the intelligence with irritating composure.  But when, that afternoon, the little sick child was brought in, and the grandmother—­who after all loved it well—­began a fresh moan over her losses to its unconscious ears—­saying how she had planned to consult this or that doctor, and to give it this or that comfort or luxury in after yearn but that now all chance of this had passed away—­Alice’s heart was touched, and she drew near to Mrs. Wilson with unwonted caresses, and, in a spirit not unlike to that of, Ruth, entreated, that come what would, they might remain together.  After much discussion in succeeding days, it was arranged that Mrs. Wilson should take a house in Manchester, furnishing it partly with what furniture she had, and providing the rest with Alice’s remaining two hundred pounds.  Mrs. Wilson was herself a Manchester woman, and naturally longed to return to her native town.  Some connections of her own at that time required lodgings, for which they were willing to pay pretty handsomely.  Alice undertook the active superintendence and superior work of the household.  Norah, willing faithful Norah, offered to cook, scour, do anything in short, so that, she might but remain with them.

The plan succeeded.  For some years their first lodgers remained with them, and all went smoothly,—­with the one sad exception of the little girl’s increasing deformity.  How that mother loved that child, is not for words to tell!

Then came a break of misfortune.  Their lodgers left, and no one succeeded to them.  After some months they had to remove to a smaller house; and Alice’s tender conscience was torn by the idea that she ought not to be a burden to her mother-in-law, but ought to go out and seek her own maintenance.  And leave her child!  The thought came like the sweeping boom of a funeral bell over her heart.