“But—you loved him?”
“Yes, I did. For a long time, after I left him, I thought I didn't, I thought I hated him, and when I found out what had happened to me—that night I came to you—I got my father's pistol and went to the mill to shoot him. I was going to shoot myself, too.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Maturity gasped. She gave a quick glance of sheer amazement at Janet, who did not seem to notice it; who was speaking objectively, apparently with no sense of the drama in her announcement.
“But I couldn't,” she went on. “At the time I didn't know why I couldn't, but when I went out I understood it was because I wanted the child, because it was his child. And though he was almost out of his head, he seemed so glad because I'd come back to him, and said he'd marry me right away.”
“And you refused!” exclaimed Mrs. Maturity.
“Well, you see, I was out of my head, too, I still thought I hated him—but I'd loved him all the time. It was funny! He had lots of faults, and he didn't seem to understand or care much about how poor people feel, though he was kind to them in the mills. He might have come to understand—I don't know—it wasn't because he didn't want to, but because he was so separated from them, I guess, and he was so interested in what he was doing. He had ambition, he thought everything of that mill, he'd made it. I don't know why I loved him, it wasn't because he was fine, like Mr. Insall, but he was strong and brave, and he needed me and just took me.”
“One never knows!” Augusta Maturity murmured.
“I went back that night to tell him I'd marry him—and he'd gone. Then I came to you, to the soup kitchen. I didn't mean to bother you, I've never quite understood how I got there. I don't care so much what happens to me, now that I've told you,” Janet added. “It was mean, not to tell you, but I'd never had anything like this—what you were giving me—and I wanted all I could get.”
“I'm thankful you did come to us!” Augusta Maturin managed to reply.
“You mean—?” Janet exclaimed.