It is unnecessary to trace, step by step, the folly of Amanda Beaufort through a series of years—­years that caused her mother much and painful anxiety—­up to her twenty-sixth summer, when, as a wife and mother, she was suffering the penalty of her indiscretion, proving too clearly the truth, that the way of transgressors is hard.  In spite of all her mother’s warnings and remonstrances, she had continued to expose herself to the night air in damp weather—­to attend balls thinly clad, and remain at them to a very late hour, and to lace herself so tightly as to seriously retard the healthy action of the vital organs.  At the age of twenty-three she married.  A year after, the birth of a child gave her whole system, which had indicated long before its feebleness, a powerful shock, from which the reaction was slow and unsteady.  The colour never came back to her cheek, nor the elasticity to her frame.  She had so long subjected herself to the pressure of an artificial external support, that she could not leave off her stays without experiencing such a sinking, sickening sensation, as she called it, that she was compelled to continue, however reluctantly, the compression and support of tightly-laced corsets.  And from frequently taking cold, through imprudence, the susceptibility had become so great, that the slightest dampness of the feet or the exposure to a light draught of air was sure to bring on a cough of hoarseness.  Her nervous system, too, was sadly shattered.  Indeed, every indication presented, foreshadowed a rapid and premature decline—­consequent, solely, upon her thoughtless imprudence in earlier years.

“Shall I never feel any better, ma?” asked Amanda, one day, as a faint sickness came over her, compelling her to resign her dear little babe into the arms of its nurse, looking up at the same time so earnestly and appealingly into her mother’s face, that Mrs. Beaufort’s heart was touched with unwonted sorrow and tenderness.

“I hope so, Amanda,” was replied, but in a tone that, though meant to encourage, conveyed little hope to the bosom of her child.

“Every time little Anna nurses, I feel so sick and faint, that, sometimes, it seems that I must give up.  And yet the thought of letting the dear little angel draw her food from another bosom than mine, makes me fainter and sicker still.  Can nothing be done to help me, ma?”

“We must see the doctor and consult with him.  Perhaps he can do something,” Mrs. Beaufort replied, in an abstracted tone.

That day the family physician was called in, and a long consultation held.  The result was, a decision that Amanda must get a nurse for her child, and then try the effect upon her system of a change of air and the use of medicinal waters.  In a word, she must put away her child and go to the Springs.

“Indeed, doctor, I cannot give up little Anna,” said the invalid mother, while the tears started to her eyes.  “I will be very careful of myself, and teach her to take a little food early, so as to relieve me as much as possible.  It seems as if it would kill me, were I forced to resign to a stranger a mother’s dearest privilege and holiest duty.”