But I! How easy
it had been to promise to make no particular advance of affection to my
son--to suggest in no way my claim upon him--to take up the thread of
my life again as if he had never been born--to regard myself merely as
the physical instrument necessary to his creation!
I was to learn with bitter suffering the truth that my act bound me
irrevocably in soul and heart to my boy and his mother.
I shall not forget the night when I faced the truth. It was in the
great room of the lodge, the blazing wood fire staining the bearskin
rugs. Outside, in the early twilight, there was wind, and trees hung
with snow, and the dull, frozen lap of a winter lake. I had come up to
the lodge at Norman's invitation. As far as he and Ann were concerned,
my claim upon Ann's boy was quite forgotten.
He had grown into a dark, ruddy, handsome little lad, this son of mine,
with a brain and body far beyond his years, thanks to Ann's marvelous
gift of motherhood, her care and her teaching.
Ann sat by the old, square piano singing some marvelous mother's
lullaby of the Norseland, her full contralto ringing with splendid
tenderness. Mother and son were alone when I entered. Carl was busily
at play on a rug by the fire.
In that instant, with the plaint of the Norse mother in my ears, I
knew.
Pages:
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361