A Crown of Shame, Volume I by Florence Marryat

Meanwhile Lizzie Fellows, unconscious of her lover's infidelity, sat up the livelong night, cradling his deserted infant in her arms. Whilst the members of the White House were wrapped in slumber, and even Maraquita and Henri de Courcelles had gained a temporary relief from their perplexities, and everything was hushed and silent in the Doctor's bungalow, Liz rocked the wailing infant to and fro, or slowly paced up and down the room singing a soft lullaby to try and soothe it. But the puny little creature refused to be comforted. It wanted the warmth and shelter of its mother's bosom, and bleated as pitifully for it as an orphaned lamb standing beside the dead body of the ewe on a bleak hillside. Liz, who had had a great deal of experience with children, tried all her arts to quiet it in vain. The baby was determined she should have no rest that night.

‘Poor wee mite,' she whispered, as she laid her cheek against its face, and a natural instinct made it turn its soft lips towards it to find the breast. ‘How can she leave you to the care of strangers? How can she sleep in comfort, not knowing if you cry, or are at peace? If you were _mine_, I would die sooner than give up my mother's right to feed and cherish you, yes, even if the world stoned me for it. How I wish I might bring you up for my own little girl -- my little tiny Maraquita!'