Chapter Seven
She was still the centre of his universe and her own when she
walked with her hand on his arm, to the little hospital around the
corner, on a sweet April morning. The slow coming of spring had
brought her a new tenderness and a new dependence, and
instinctively she felt that, when she came home again, she would
be a new Nancy. The wistfulness that marks any conscious human
change had been hers for many days now; she was not distrustful,
she was not unhappy, but she was sobered and thoughtful.
"We HAVE been happy, haven't we, Bert?" she said, more than once.
"We always will be, my darling! You know that."
But she would only smile at him wisely, for reply. She was still
happy, happier perhaps than ever. But she knew that she was no
longer the mistress of her own happiness--it lay in other hands
now.
So the universe was turned upside down for Nancy, and she lost,
once and for all her position as its centre. The world, instead of
a safe and cheerful place, became full of possible dangers for the
baby, Albert the eighth. Nancy, instead of a self-reliant,
optimistic woman, was only a weary, feeble, ignorant person who
doubted her own power to protect this priceless treasure.
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