He wanted her to love him more, and
perhaps that was all well and good; but he wanted her to love her child
less, and that was an evil wish. One day, he gave way to his temper, and
cursed and swore at Gregory, who had got into some mischief, as children
will; my mother made some excuse for him; my father said it was hard
enough to have to keep another man's child, without having it perpetually
held up in its naughtiness by his wife, who ought to be always in the
same mind that he was; and so from little they got to more; and the end
of it was, that my mother took to her bed before her time, and I was born
that very day. My father was glad, and proud, and sorry, all in a
breath; glad and proud that a son was born to him; and sorry for his poor
wife's state, and to think how his angry words had brought it on. But he
was a man who liked better to be angry than sorry, so he soon found out
that it was all Gregory's fault, and owed him an additional grudge for
having hastened my birth. He had another grudge against him before long.
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