He gathered her hands in his
and fell upon his knees.
"What is it, dear? What do you mean?"
"Nothing, nothing," she murmured.
"You're sure you're not worse? Can't I help you?"
She did not reply, and he knelt there holding her hands until she sank
into unmistakably quiet sleep.
He feared the unspeakable. He imagined her taken in premature
childbirth, brought on by exposure and excitement, and, for the first
time, he took upon himself the burden of his guilt. The thought of
danger to her had not hitherto troubled him. For the poor, weak fool of
a husband he cared nothing; but this woman was his, and the child to
come was his. Birth--of which many men make a jest--suddenly took on
majesty and terror, and the little life seemed about to enter a world
of storm which filled him with a sense of duty new to him.
He bent down and laid his cheek against his woman's hands, and his
throat choked with a passionate resolution. He put his merry, careless
young manhood behind him at that moment and assumed the responsibilities
of a husband.
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