XVI
No more than three weeks now remained between her and the dreaded day. She
had hoped to spend them with her mother, who was timorous and desponding,
and stood in need of consolation. But this was not to be; her father's
drunkenness continued, and daily he became more extortionate in his
demands for money. Esther had not six pounds left, and she felt that she
must leave. It had come to this, that she doubted if she were to stay on
that the clothes on her back might not be taken from her. Mrs. Saunders
was of the same opinion, and she urged Esther to go. But scruples
restrained her.
"I can't bring myself to leave you, mother; something tells me I should
stay with you. It is dreadful to be parted from you. I wish you was coming
to the hospital; you'd be far safer there than at home."
"I know that, dearie; but where's the good in talking about it? It only
makes it harder to bear. You know I can't leave. It is terrible hard, as
you says." Mrs. Saunders held her apron to her eyes and cried. "You have
always been a good girl, never a better--my one consolation since your
poor father died."
"Don't cry, mother," said Esther; "the Lord will watch over us, and we
shall both pray for each other. In about a month, dear, we shall be both
quite well, and you'll bless my baby, and I shall think of the time when I
shall put him into your arms.
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