deathly pallor had spread over her face, her teeth were chattering as in a fever. She could hardly utter the words: ‘Who told you, Ivan, who told you?’
‘Nobody told me.’ Hron passed his hand over her cold cheek. ‘I want you to be perfectly happy, my dearest child. Now, please go and welcome the other Magda, else she will begin to cry. Come, little daughter, give your mother courage.’
The child hesitated for a moment, then she ran up to her mother, threw her arms round her body, and cried anxiously: ‘Mummy, Mummy, what is the matter with you?’
But Magda, before Ivan knew what she was doing, or could prevent it, had seized his right hand and pressed it to her lips. It was not till now that the truth flashed upon her. Ivan had brought this about, but not to accuse or punish her. Hot tears fell on his hands, and when at last he could take her head in both his hands to kiss her, her whole soul looked in gratitude out of her brimming eyes.
‘Ivan . . . Ivan,’ her lips trembled, ‘do you think my whole life will be enough in return for what you are doing for this fatherless child?’
‘What? Fatherless!’ Ivan cried gaily, so
