The tie was too strong to fight. I loved my little son--I loved
his mother.
I do not remember how I stumbled across the room and told her. I only
know that she was greatly shocked and troubled and very kind, that she
told me as gently as she could that I must try to conquer it all--that
there must be no one in Carl's life but herself--that man's part in the
scheme of creation was but the act of a moment; a woman's part, her
whole life.
I think now that her great love for the little chap had crowded
everything else out of her mind; that living up there in those snowy
acres of trees away from the world, she was so calmly contented and
happy that she feared an intrusive breath of any sort. And she did not
love me.
Suddenly in a moment of impulsive tenderness, she bent over and caught
Carl up in her arms.
"My little laddie!" she cried, her face glorified, and he nestled his
head in her full, beautiful throat and laughed.
An instant later he looked up and smiled and held out his hand with a
curious instinct of kindliness he had, even as a very little fellow.
"Don't feel so awful bad, Uncle Grant!" he said shyly. "I love you
too. Don't I, mother?" I don't know, but I think Ann cried.
I choked and stumbled from the room.
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