230 OUTDOOR STUDIES 
Nay, the foretaste of that changed fortune 
may have been present, even in the kiss. Who 
knows what absorbing emotion, besides love’s 
immediate impulse, may have been uttered in 
that shadowy embrace? There may have been 
some contrition for ill-temper or neglect, or 
some triumph over ruinous temptation, or some 
pledge of immortal patience, or some heart- 
breaking prophecy of bereavement. It may 
have been simply an act of habitual tender- 
ness, or it may have been the wild reaction to- 
ward a neglected duty ; the renewed self-conse- 
cration of the saint, or the joy of the sinner 
that repenteth, No matter. She kissed the 
baby. The feeling of its soft flesh, the busy 
struggle of its little arms between her hands, 
the impatient pressure of its little feet against 
her knees, — these were the same, whatever 
the mood or circumstance beside. They did 
something to equalize joy and sorrow, honor 
and shame. Maternal love is love, whether a 
woman be a wife or only a mother. Only a 
mother! 
The happiness beneath that roof may, per- 
haps, have never reached so high a point as at 
that precise moment of my passing. In the 
coarsest household, the mother of an infant is 
placed on a sort of pedestal of care and ten- 
derness, at least for a time. She resumes some- 
