“I shall not speak of that.” His voice fluted dangerously. “After Elliott left I—I almost ran away myself. But the nurse came into the hall and seemed to expect me to go in and see Claire. I didn’t want to, Anne. It was the most difficult thing I ever did in my life. I somehow felt as if I hadn’t the right to take advantage of her helplessness. But the nurse couldn’t know that, of course, so I followed her into the room.”
He paused and shaded his eyes with quivering fingers. “Anne, she was beautiful. She looked rested as she used to when we were children together. Her hair was braided in two plaits on either side of her face. On one of her tiny hands gleamed the wedding ring. After that first glimpse I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It seemed so pathetic, somehow. So tragic to have her wear it to the very end—and after. It wrenched at my heart. I fell down by the bedside and cried. Afterwards,” he faltered.
Anne prompted him tenderly. “Afterwards?”
“Afterwards, when I was in the hall again, the nurse asked me if I didn’t want to see the child. I—I had forgotten all about it! Just to think of it, Anne, I hadn’t even remembered to ask if it had lived. My own child! What kind of a brute do you think I am?”
“Merely a puzzled and a frightened one, poor Alexis. Certainly not the monster you imagine. Come, tell me about the baby, dear.”
Her compassion fell like oil upon his wounded soul. He loved her for it and for the beautiful calm with which she suppressed her own sorrow, which he sensed strongly beneath his own piercing misery.
“She left me for a moment and returned with a bundle in her arms. The bundle whimpered a little like—like a sick kitten. I was afraid to look, but the nurse thrust it under my eyes and I had to. It was a very ugly baby, Anne. The little face was all screwed up. Pale and puny, not fat and red like the babies in pictures. It made me a little sick at first. I didn’t want to touch it. It was sort of uncanny with its great, hazy eyes staring out at me. However, she laid it in my arms and I had to hold it, for fear it might fall on the ground and break if I didn’t.”
As he stopped for a moment, Anne smiled through tears. How very masculine, even the most feminine of men can be under certain conditions.
A new and softer expression spread over his tired face. The eyes acquired an exalted expression. He continued. “Then an odd thing happened, Anne, a very odd thing! As I held him away from me, he stirred in my arms. I could feel his little feet kick my side, and a tiny fist, like an unopened bud suddenly beat against my breast. A hand, knocking at my heart, the hand of my son! It sent a thrill coursing all over me, Anne. I bent over and kissed the pale, pathetic forehead. And as I met the cloudy eyes, so full of sadness and mystery, I knew that I loved him. And I vowed that I would make it all up to him, cherish him, bring him up to be as different from myself as possible, that he might be both happy and sane. Then, immediately, while he was still in my arms and I could feel him stir against my heart, I thought of you, Anne. I thought of you and knew that you would help us. You, who are so strong, so beautifully sane yourself!”
Alexis rose and threw himself at Anne’s feet. He seized her unresisting hands and covered them with kisses.