Monica turned her head away and moaned.
“I shall not love my child.”
“Yes, you will. And that love, that duty, is the life to which you must look forward. You have suffered a great deal, but after such sorrow as yours there comes quietness and resignation. Nature will help you.”
“Oh, if you could give me some of your strength! I have never been able to look at life as you do. I should never have married him if I hadn’t been tempted by the thoughts of living easily—and I feared so—that I might always be alone—My sisters are so miserable; it terrified me to think of struggling on through life as they do—”
“Your mistake was in looking only at the weak women. You had other examples before you—girls like Miss Vesper and Miss Haven, who live bravely and work hard and are proud of their place in the world. But it’s idle to talk of the past, and just as foolish to speak as if you were sorrowing without hope. How old are you, Monica?”
“Two-and-twenty.”
“Well, I am two-and-thirty—and I don’t call myself old. When you have reached my age I prophesy you will smile at your despair of ten years ago. At your age one talks so readily of “wrecked life” and “hopeless future,” and all that kind of thing. My dear girl, you may live to be one of the most contented and most useful women in England. Your life isn’t wrecked at all—nonsense! You have gone through a storm, that’s true; but more likely than not you will be all the better for it. Don’t talk or think about sins; simply make up your mind that you won’t be beaten by trials and hardships. There cannot—can there?—be the least doubt as to how you ought to live through these next coming months. Your duty is perfectly clear. Strengthen yourself in body and mind. You have a mind, which is more than can be said of a great many women. Think bravely and nobly of yourself! Say to yourself: This and that it is in me to do, and I will do it!”
Monica bent suddenly forward and took one of her friend’s hands, and clung to it.
“I knew you could say something that would help me. You have a way of speaking. But it isn’t only now. I shall be so far away, and so lonely, all through the dark winter. Will you write to me?”
“Gladly. And tell you all we are doing.”