Chapter XVI: In Retrospect
I once started a sonnet to “My Soul,” but, having written one line, I found that I had said all—
Cross-hatched with many a shameful scar.
It is doubtful if I have a soul, but if so, I am sure that if it shows scars of victory, they are the results of battles that should not have been fought.
We have never been a religious family, as I look back. The future? For me it is here. My mother understood. Think of the agony of a woman who had never had a hand laid upon her since she was a child, lying completely helpless, paralyzed for six years! The last time I saw her, I said:
“Mother, you and I know what we believe about a future life?”
She nodded feebly.
“You are unhappy here?”
Again the nod, with a pathetic look in her eyes. I leaned over and whispered in her ear.
“Mother, I hope you die to-night.”