"Yes, do that surprise you?"
Then jerking out her words, throwing them at him as if they were
half-bricks, she told him the story of the last eight years—Queen
Charlotte's hospital, Mrs. Rivers, Mrs. Spires, the night on the
Embankment, and the workhouse.
"And when I came out of the workhouse I travelled London in search of sixteen pounds a year wages, which was the least I could do with, and when I didn't find them I sat here and ate dry bread. She'll tell you—she saw it all. I haven't said nothing about the shame and sneers I had to put up with—you would understand nothing about that,—and there was more than one situation I was thrown out of when they found I had a child. For they didn't like loose women in their houses; I had them very words said about me. And while I was going through all that you was living in riches with a lady in foreign parts; and now when she could put up with you no longer, and you're kicked out, you come to me and ask for your share of the child. Share of the child! What share is yours, I'd like to know?"
"Esther!"
"In your mean, underhand way you come here on the sly to see if you can't steal the love of the child from me."
She could speak no more; her strength was giving way before the tumult of her passion, and the silence that had come suddenly into the room was more terrible than her violent words. William stood quaking, horrified, wishing the earth would swallow him; Mrs. Lewis watched Esther's pale face, fearing that she would faint; Jackie, his grey eyes open round, held his broken boat still in his hand. The sense of the scene had hardly caught on his childish brain; he was very frightened; his tears and sobs were a welcome intervention. Mrs. Lewis took him in her arms and tried to soothe him. William tried to speak; his lips moved, but no words came.
Mrs. Lewis whispered, "You'll get no good out of her now, her temper's up; you'd better go. She don't know what she's a-saying of."
"If one of us has to go," said William, taking the hint, "there can't be much doubt which of us." He stood at the door holding his hat, just as if he were going to put it on. Esther stood with her back turned to him. At last he said—
"Good-bye, Jackie. I suppose you don't want to see me again?"
For reply Jackie threw his boat away and clung to Mrs. Lewis for protection. William's face showed that he was pained by Jackie's refusal.