And it was no thought of her son, or of her living daughter Fanny, that stirred her heart at last; but a sudden remembrance, suggested by something in the arrangement of the room,--of a little daughter--dead in infancy--long years ago--that, like a sudden sunbeam, melted the icy crust, behind which there was a real tender woman.

And it was no thought of her son, or of her living daughter Fanny, that stirred Mrs. Thornton's heart at last; but a sudden remembrance of a little daughter, dead in infancy long years ago that, like a sudden sunbeam, melted the ice, behind which there was a real tender woman.
