? ? ? ? 'Child! unsay those words! Ah! you do not mean them. I understand. I, too, have had such moments.' For an instant he was back in his native France, and a wistful, sad-eyed face came as a mist between him and the woman before him.
? ? ? ? 'Then, Father, has my God forsaken me? I am not wicked above women. My misery with him has been great. Why should it be greater? Why shall I not grasp at happiness? I cannot, will not, go back to him!'
? ? ? ? 'Rather is your God forsaken. Return. Throw your burden upon Him, and the darkness shall be lifted. O my child,-'
? ? ? ? 'No; it is useless; I have made my bed and so shall I lie. I will go on. And if God punishes me, I shall bear it somehow. You do not understand. You are not a woman.'
? ? ? ? 'My mother was a woman.'
? ? ? ? 'But-'
? ? ? ? 'And Christ was born of a woman.'
? ? ? ? She did not answer. A silence fell. Wharton pulled his mustache impatiently and kept an eye on the trail. Grace leaned her elbow on the table, her face set with resolve. The smile had died away. Father Roubeau shifted his ground.
? ? ? ? 'You have children?'
? ? ? ? 'At one time I wished- but now- no.
Pages:
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129