“Seven years my mother led this life. Her first born, a boy, died when he was a little more than a year old. Then I was born. After that came another boy. When Osmond was two years old and I four, my mother one day, with both of us left my father’s house forever. During the last year or two matters had been growing worse and still worse, until finally they had become unendurable.
“My mother being a well-developed woman and possessing strong attractive powers would unconsciously draw the passing glances of men wherever she might chance to be. In spite of all she had been compelled to pass through, feeling was not yet dead within her. An intelligent and attractive man always had the power to move her to animation and life. This, again, my father could not understand, and to his many other faults was added that of an insane jealousy. It was the last straw that broke the camel’s back. Having been subjected to his indignities until she was able to bear them no longer she resolved to submit to no more. So one wet, cold evening in the early autumn she returned to her childhood’s home.”
CHAPTER V.
“But if my mother thought she was now freed from her husband’s persecutions she was soon to be undeceived. He dared not enter her father’s home but when the shades of evening came she soon found it was not safe to step outside of the house as she never knew the moment that he, like some uncanny apparition, would suddenly appear before her, and soon he succeeded in making her so nervous that she was almost afraid of her own shadow.
“Added to this trouble was the necessity of procuring work, for my grandfather was not blest with any surplus of this world’s goods. It was with him as with so many thousands of others, weary work from early morn until late at night, in order to make both ends meet. The feeding of three new boarders and the procuring of proper clothing for them was a matter of no small importance.
“So having treated herself to several weeks of rest my mother most seriously began to think of suitable employment, and one day began the weary search for work. Many were the disappointments met with ere that search was successful. But at length the tiresome tramp was ended. She had answered an advertisement for chambermaid at a hotel and been engaged. Little enough did it promise to bring her. It was the best, however, she was at that time able to do. Having had no educational advantages no very large field was open to her, and the need at hand was pressing.
But her trials, it seems, had only begun. It soon leaked out that my mother was a woman with that obnoxious appellation a ‘grass widow.’ She was young yet, only twenty-three, and libertines, both young and old, thought her their rightful prey. But her proud spirit rose to the emergency. None ever ventured to accost her a second time with undue familiarity. It was a severe strain upon her, nevertheless, and she had not been very strong of late. Soon the effects of this strain became apparent, and often she feared she must utterly break down. All that winter she was under a doctor’s treatment, who would insist she must have rest, absolute rest, or he would not answer for the consequences.
“But how could she rest? She had her two children besides herself to clothe, and she could not bear to think of being an added burden to her father’s family. So she only more firmly compressed her lips and bravely worked on.
“No doubt she would have rallied more quickly but for the incessant fear she was in of meeting my father. He shadowed and dogged her footsteps. He threatened to steal her children. He circulated the vilest reports about her and well nigh succeeded in ruining her reputation. When she appeared upon the streets or in any public place she imagined she could feel the stare of every man she met. All this had much to do in keeping her poor in health and spirits.
“But as time passed her unusually strong nature began to assert itself. Being freed from the curse of sex slavery her nerves became stronger. The dark circles under her eyes disappeared. By and by she began to gain strength in spite of the doctor’s assertion that she could not do so without positive rest. But the knowledge of having her every footstep dogged, her every action watched, was a constant horror to her, and she often wished—if it were not for her children,—that she were at rest in the grave.