ndous a sacrifice; she
should be glad, not sorrowful--and yet it was not easy to be glad when
the pain in the heart was always there, and there was loneliness that
would not let her spirits be gay or bright. Liberty! What did it
mean, that word--liberty? She had left her native land to seek it--and
what she had found so far could only make the memories keener, add to
them, and bring a greater sadness.

About her every one was talking, some boisterously, some whose cheeks
were wet, some who swore valiantly, some as though they prayed; but all
eager, all expectant, all with that word "liberty" continuously upon
their lips. It meant that, throughout all the remote places of Europe,
in the mountains, in the valleys, in the plains, in the towns and
villages of countries she had never heard of before, this great new
land of America was known, and meant--liberty.

She wondered if it could be true, if this could be a land of magic that
transformed all bitterness and misery into sunshine and song. She
wondered if the dreams of all these strange creatures who had come from
so many different worlds to this one because its name was liberty would
find their dreams realised--if there might not be for some a cruel
awakening that would be more than they could bear. This woman who
stood beside her, old before her prime, who was very dirty, who was so
queerly dressed, who crooned incessantly to the child in her arms--what
dreams was she dreaming, what hopes had she, what was it that this new
land was to bring to her? And then a great, tender wave of pity swept
Marie-Louise. They had been standing there so long! And how drawn and
weary the woman's face was, and how her arms must ache!

"Give me the baby for a little while," she said--and placed her bundle
at her feet, and took the child in her arms.

And now the confusion around her and about the ship increased. They
had come alongside an enormous shed; and, though she could not see, she
was sure from the noise and commotion that the rich passengers were
getting off. But it was well that she could not see. She was glad of
that. Jean would be amongst them, and she could not have helped
looking, and--and to have watched him go and know that it was for the
last time, would have been but to torture herself beyond her strength.

She was very tired, for still they were kept standing there for so
long, long a time, until her arms too ached, and the child grew leaden
in its weig