“Who?” said Ethelbert.
“That man,” said Bertha, with a point of her finger, like a sword-thrust. And Reginald, as if shocked by an electric charge, sent forth a cry, springing forward as if galvanized; and Bertha, frightened, heard Ethelbert say, steadily:
“There is no man there,—a crippled child, an absent spirit, a wraith, a wreck, a ghost, a ‘remains’ of the criminal who was arrested in the act of killing a citizen of this nation, called Reginald Grove; that ‘remains’ is there; nothing more. A child waiting to come forth to the business of making one more try at self-management, is there.”
“You were right,” Ethelbert continued, not unobservant meanwhile of Bertha’s alarm at the effect of the electric-battery which her finger had fired at Reginald, and at the flush which had mounted Reginald’s face. “You are right in saying there are too many born and buried. Let us not bury him (this ‘remains’), but let us electrify him into newness of spirit, and then he will not need rebirth of the body. Give him another chance. You and Waldemar shall have yours.”
“No; for if he gets well you will be making him marry me. All the good ladies try to make those kind of men do that. And the men hate us, and we hate them; and even when they are of our own class, they always think we are worse for what was as bad for one as for the other. And they think they have done us great honor; and we keep on, never able to do anything that will make the wrong right; and all that comes of it is hate, hate, hate; and more babies are born, all of them full of hate; and the mothers can’t take care of so many; and it’s all nothing but hate, hate, hate. And the mother dies hating, and the children live hating; and it’s all foolishness and misery. You are my enemy if you make him marry me; and you can’t be my friend if you are his.”
“Now, then, is he going to stay here?”
“He will stay here,” said Ethel.
“Then I must go.”
“Must you?”
“Yes madame, you would not have two such people under your roof!”