No position in life is more terrible to face than that of the

widowed mother left alone in the world with her unborn baby. When

the child is her first one,--when, besides the natural horror and

agony of the situation, she has also to confront the unknown

dangers of that new and dreaded experience,--her plight is still

more pitiable. But when the widowed mother is one who has never

been a wife,--when in addition to all these pangs of bereavement

and fear, she has further to face the contempt and hostility of a

sneering world, as Herminia had to face it,--then, indeed, her lot

becomes well-nigh insupportable; it is almost more than human

nature can bear up against. So Herminia found it. She might have

died of grief and loneliness then and there, had it not been for

the sudden and unexpected rousing of her spirit of opposition by

Dr. Merrick's words. That cruel speech gave her the will and the

power to live. It saved her from madness. She drew herself up at

once with an injured woman's pride, and, facing her dead Alan's

father with a quick access of energy,-"You are wrong," she said, stilling her heart with one hand.

"These rooms are mine,--my own, not dear Alan's. I engaged them

myself, for my own use, and in my own name, as Herminia Barton.

You can stay here if you wish. I will not imitate your cruelty by

refusing you access to them; but if you remain here, you must treat

me at least with the respect that belongs to my great sorrow, and

with the courtesy due to an English lady."

Her words half cowed him. He subsided at once. In silence he

stepped over to his dead son's bedside. Mechanically, almost

unconsciously, Herminia went on with the needful preparations for

Alan's funeral. Her grief was so intense that she bore up as if

stunned; she did what was expected of her without thinking or

feeling it. Dr. Merrick stopped on at Perugia till his son was

buried. He was frigidly polite meanwhile to Herminia. Deeply as

he differed from her, the dignity and pride with which she had

answered his first insult impressed him with a certain sense of

respect for her character, and made him feel at least he could not

be rude to her with impunity. He remained at the hotel, and

superintended the arrangements for his son's funeral. As soon as

that was over, and Herminia had seen the coffin lowered into the

grave of all her hopes, save one, she returned to her rooms alone,--

more utterly alone than she had ever imagined any human being

could feel in a cityful of fellow-creatures.




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