Scotland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
She would have left it cryptically at that if she had not seen that
Ellen would have disliked her as a mystificator. She drew her hand
across her brow, and immediately perceived that the gesture had so
evidently expressed dislike of this obligation to confide that the girl
was again alienated, and in desperation she cried out all she meant.
"I'm responsible for him in the usual way. By loving his father. Much
more than the usual way, most people would tell me, because of course I
knew it wasn't lawful. But there's something more than that. I was so
very ill before he was born that the doctor wanted to operate and take
him away from me long before there was any chance of his living. I knew
he would be illegitimate and that there would be much trouble for us
both, but I wanted him so much that I couldn't bear them to kill him. So
I risked it, and struggled through till he was born. So you see it's
twice instead of once that I have willed him into the world. I must see
to it that now he is here he is happy."
Ellen said in a little voice, "That was very brave of you," and soared
into an amazed exaltation from which she dipped suddenly to some
practical consideration that she must settle at once. Her eyes hovered
about Marion's and met them shyly, and she stammered softly, "Does
having a baby hurt very much?" She did not feel at all disturbed when
Marion answered, "Yes," though that was the word she had been dreading,
for the speech she added, "If the child is going to be worth while it
always hurts, but one does not care," seemed to her one of those sombre
and heartening things like "King Lear," or the black line of the
Pentland Hills against the sky, which she felt took fear from life,
since they showed it black and barren of comfort and yet more than ever
beautiful. It settled her practical consideration: she had known that
she would have to have children, because all married people did, but now
she would look forward to it without cowardice and without regret. Now
she could soar again to her amazed exaltation and contemplate the woman
who had given her Richard.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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