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On the contrary, her slender figure matured to womanly proportions. Little children, seeing her, smiled responsively at her, or clamored to be taken into her arms, there was such a tender mother-look about her. By degrees her friends began to feel the repose of her intellect and the sympathy of her face, and came to regard her as the queen of confidantes.
In her incapacity to conceive other roughnesses than those she could feel herself, she was, it is probable, much like the rest of humankind. She advanced to the bed, her tenderest mother-look on her face, and cut Lydia off from speech with gentle wisdom. "No, no, dear; don't try to talk. You're all tired out and nervous and don't know "
Then for a long hour Mother Mayberry worked quietly among her dependent feather folk and as she worked, her gentle face had its brooding mother-look and her lips moved as she comforted and fortified herself with snatches of prayer for the journey through the deep waters, on which she was to lead this child of her affection.
Miss Farwell's face shone now with that mother-look as she lowered her head until the sick girl could see straight into the deep gray eyes. The poor creature gazed hungrily breathlessly. "Now don't you know that I care?" whispered the nurse, and the other burst into tears, grasping the nurse's hand in both her own and with a reviving hope clinging to it convulsively.
Ay, lay down your arms and bend the suppliant knee, sheathe your useless sword, and hush to soothing whisper the voice that thundered in command a week agone; hide away with noiseless hand the heavy boot and clinking spur; off with belt and buckle and scratching shoulder-strap, and don your softest dressing-gown and creakless slipper; submit to search for pins and needles you never carried; promise you will only talk just so much, and stay only just so long, and will sit only just in such a place and won't attempt to agitate her, "for we must still be very, very careful," and at last you are admitted, and you kneel by the white bed and hear the rapturous ecstasy of welcome in her faint voice, and read of her sacred martyrdom in the white cheek and fragile hand, and glory in the pride and joy of that wondering, wonderful mother-look in the great, deep, lustrous eyes, and kiss again the warm, sweet lips that are heaven's nectar to the thirst of yours; and then and then there is revealed to you that little, wrinkled, ruddy head, all folds and puckers and creases, all the redder and uglier for contrast with the snowy bosom in which it twists and burrows, and those expressionless, saucer-blue, liquid, blinking little eyes, and tiny upturned nose, and puckering, gurgling, querulous mouth, all that is visible from the folds of the white blanket worn as only Indian and baby can wear one; and you are bidden to declare that he is the very, very image of you, bless his honeyed lips! and then you must take him one minute, nurse must let her see Jack with his baby boy in his arms! and though fearful, you assent, and with reverent, prayerful gratitude, you receive your first-born to your heart, and thank God for the infinite mercy that has brought her, the sweet young wife and mother, through her deadly peril, and then you would kiss the helpless, staring, blinking, little blanket-framed face; but at first touch of those bristling moustaches a powerful spasm has convulsed the tiny features, and a vehement, plaintive, wailing protest bursts from the contorted lips, and then your son and heir is snatched away, and you stand like convicted felon, while nursey dandles and tosses and condoles and condones and cuddles.
"It is her child," he groaned. "That was the mother-look. She is married married." He resumed his work, with a face as near the color of the paint he was scrubbing as the tanned skin of a sailor may become. Ten minutes later, the captain, in his office, was listening to a complaint from a very excited man and woman.
If Bunny wants to know all about her past her parentage he can come to me and I can satisfy him. Tell him that! But if he really loves her he won't care a damn any more than I do." "Ah!" Maud said. She stood a moment, looking at him, and in her eyes was that mother-look of a love that understands. She held out her hand to him. "Thank you for telling me, Charlie," she said. "Good-bye!"
Then he knew that Tharon was coming toward him that her hands were on his shoulders her deep eyes piercing his with a look that meant more to him than all the earth beside. It was the fierce, mother-look of changeless affection, the companion to that savage cry. She held him in a pinching grip, and made sure that he was unhurt, save for that scratch on the cheek.
Carew gazed down on this little head the mother-look, which admits of nothing false, and which when once seen on a woman's face, whether she be mother in fact or mother only in heart idealizes her in the mind for ever. Eloquent with love and holy devotion the scene flashed upon my eyes for a moment and was gone.
Only Martin had seen the look in her eyes, that mother-look of compassion. "Very well, I'll go on." "And, Charlie," said Mary, "you keep quiet now and don't break in when Manda talks." "Well," the story-teller resumed, "the Indians who lived out in the woods, far from towns or cities, had to find all their own food. They caught fish, shot animals and birds, planted corn and gathered berries.
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