In
these hours she realised in some measure the duties that life held in
store, and it seemed to her that they exceeded her strength. Never would
she be able to bring him up--he would have no one to look to but her. She
never imagined other than that her child would be a boy. The task was
clearly more than she could perform, and in despair she thought it would
be better for it to die. What would happen if she remained out of a
situation? Her father would not have her at home, that she knew well
enough. What should she do, and the life of another depending on her? She
would never see William again--that was certain. He had married a lady,
and, were they to meet, he would not look at her. Her temper grew hot, and
the memory of the injustice of which she had been a victim pressed upon
her. But when vain anger passed away she thought of her baby, anticipating
the joy she would experience when he held out tiny hands to her, and that,
too, which she would feel when he laid an innocent cheek to hers; and her
dream persisting, she saw him learning a trade, going to work in the
morning and coming back to her in the evening, proud in the accomplishment
of something done, of good money honestly earned.
She thought a great deal, too, of her poor mother, who was looking
strangely weak and poorly, and whose condition was rendered worse by her
nervous fears that she would not get through this confinement.
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