The poor woman began to cry as she said this, and calling the little girl to her knee kissed her with mournful tenderness.
"How fond you are of the little girl—it must be a great comfort to have his child looking into your face! One could endure almost any thing for that!" said Katharine, evidently trembling as she spoke.
"A comfort and a pain, Katharine, for if he never comes back—"
"Oh, don't—don't say that," cried the girl, shivering. "The thought is enough to kill one: words—I could not put that into words."
"I wish you would not take on so," said Mrs. Mason, sharply. "It's bad enough to wait and wait, and—oh dear, oh dear, what will become of us?"
Here the poor woman burst into a flood of tears, wringing her hands passionately.
"Mother," said little Rose, "are you crying because pa hasn't come back with my pretty dress?"
The mother could not answer for her sobs; as for Kate Allen, she sat looking at them with cold tears dropping down her white cheeks, as if she longed to fall upon her knees and ask them to pity her a little.
"What do you cry for, Katy Allen?" said the child, rather jealous that any other one should weep but her mother. "You have not got no pa, nor no husband out to sea."
"Oh, God help me! God forgive me! I haven't, I haven't," sobbed the beautiful girl, rocking to and fro on her chair.