I had not had up until then, and did not have after their arrival, any discussion with Elizabeth and Scott of my attempts to date to establish Elizabeth Ann’s claim upon the Hardings, and they made ready to start back West, with my baby, after a few days’ visit. Again I was left alone. Again I had been forced to give her up.
I had experienced many heart-breaks in having to part with my daughter, but up to that time they had been, like the black clouds of a thunder storm, mentally devastating to me only so long as I permitted myself to see only the clouds. When I saw beyond their obscuration, the sun, which was the glory of my child ultimately restored to me, then my heartaches, like the clouds, disappeared. Mental indecisions and temporary discouragements gave way to renewed purpose and heartfelt anticipation. I was a crusader of a great Right,—the right of every sane and loving mother to possess her own child.
But now, as I stood on the sidewalk, dry-eyed, waving goodbye to my child and answering the kisses which she blew to me through the small rear window of the motor car, I scarcely dared to think. Was I really a crusader after all? Was there aught to assuage the grief of a mother who had struggled against odds to hold her child and had failed? Was there a ray of hope to light the coming day? Must I return again to emptiness, to loneliness, to sorrow, to pain? Was it right that they, who had never known the glory of my sweetheart’s smile as a father, should deny his daughter her birthright as a Harding? Did God give only to deprive? No! “Every mountain shall be made low and every valley shall be exalted.” Wherefore, then, Pride? I must be humble. Resentment? I must forgive! Hatred? I must love. Retaliation? “Do good to them which despitefully use you.” And even as I struggled to give these healing thoughts an abiding place in my consciousness, there came before me the face of him I love, and clearly I saw his lips move, and heard the incomparably sweet voice—“Courage, dearie!”
170
I haven’t a great deal to add to my story. The futility of pressing the Hardings for recognition of their brother’s child was clearly apparent to me. I gradually drew the sympathies of several men and women of standing, who felt that I had a distinct cause to sponsor, and their advices from then on have been for the most part followed.
Shortly after the departure of my sister and her husband and my child came a request from my landlady to vacate the apartment we had been occupying, because I had been unable to meet the full rent the previous month and could not promise a definite day of payment. I had been frank to tell her so.
My mother had found employment on Long Island for the summer. I was forced to take a single room again. This I did, being able to secure the same one-room-and-bath which I had occupied the previous summer, within walking distance from my office. However, I felt very badly about not being able to finish the payment of my rent, and once more, having this and many other obligations to meet, I wrote Tim Slade under date of June 26, 1926, as follows:
“This month finds me terribly in need of help. Many disappointing things have happened since you were here. I seem to be eternally slated for disappointments.”
I heard nothing, however, from Tim, and determined then that I would never again approach him for help he was in no wise obligated to give. On July 2nd came another $40 from Daisy Harding, this time enclosed in an envelope with no accompanying letter. It was in the form of a cashier’s check from the Marion County Bank Company. I wrote to Miss Harding and thanked her sincerely for the check. I applied it upon “back bills” immediately.