But I don't want you to agitate
yourself, and if you like I'll write myself to the woman who has charge of
your baby. I cannot do more, and I hope you'll be satisfied."
By what right, by what law, was she separated from her child? She was
tired of hearing Mrs. Rivers speak of "my child, my child, my child," and
of seeing this fine lady turn up her nose when she spoke of her own
beautiful boy. When Mrs. Rivers came to engage her she had said that it
would be better for the baby to be brought to see her every three or four
weeks, for two had died already. At the time Esther had not understood.
She had supposed vaguely, in a passing way, that Mrs. Rivers had already
lost two children. But yesterday the housemaid had told her that that
little thing in the cradle had had two wet-nurses before Esther, and that
both babies had died. It was then a life for a life. It was more. The
children of two poor girls had been sacrificed so that this rich woman's
child might be saved. Even that was not enough, the life of her beautiful
boy was called for. Then other memories swept into Esther's frenzied
brain. She remembered vague hints, allusions that Mrs. Spires had thrown
out; and as if in the obtuseness of a nightmare, it seemed to this
ignorant girl that she was the victim of a dark and far-reaching
conspiracy; she experienced the sensation of the captured animal, and she
scanned the doors and windows, thinking of some means of escape.
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