As she lay thus a sudden mysterious exaltation came upon her, and she
grew warm and happy. She cared no longer for any man's opinion of her.
She was a mother, and God said to her, "Be peaceful and hopeful." Light
fell around her, and the pleasant odors of flowers. She looked through
sunny vistas of oaks and apple-trees. Bees hummed in the clover, and
she began to sing with them, and her low, humming song melted into the
roar of the storm. She saw birds flying like butterflies over fields of
daisies, and her song grew louder. It became sweet and maternal--full of
lullaby cadences. As she lay thus, lovely and careless and sinless as a
prattling babe, her eyes fixed upon the gleam of lights in the dark, a
shaking hand was laid on her shoulder, and Rivers spoke in anxious
voice:
"What is it, Blanche?--are you sick?"
She looked at him drowsily, and at last slowly said: "No, Jim--I am
happy. See my baby there, in the sunshine! Isn't she lovely?"
The man grew rigid with fear, and the hair of his head moved. He thought
her delirious--dying, perhaps, of cold.
Pages:
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96