She tried to imagine the house and fields, but looking around she could only see ramshackle buildings and flimsy tents. How did she ever end up in a place like this? She thought of their cozy little house back in England and couldn't imagine why they would ever leave. She couldn't ask Rodney after what he'd said about creating heaven on earth.

A sandy-haired man dressed all in black approached them, shaking Rodney's hand. "Mr. Gooddell, I was hoping to see you before the meeting today." He turned to Prudence, a smile coming to his face. "And how good to see Mrs. Gooddell is recovering nicely after that nasty bump on the head. The Lord has answered my prayers."

"Thank you," Prudence said. Reverend Crane nodded to her and then pulled Rodney aside. As they discussed some issue, Prudence put a hand to her forehead.

She approaches the steps of the church, a simple wooden square unadorned with any ornaments or decorations. Her hand touches the door, but she can't find the strength to pull it open. There must be some other way, she thinks. But there is not. She's tried every remedy and potion available. She's sought the council of her mother, the oldest and wisest women in Wessenshire, and even a doctor visiting from Liverpool. She's exhausted every other possibility. Now she needs a miracle.

She opens the door and sees Reverend Crane sitting in the front pew as though waiting for her. She creeps along the aisles to where he sits, reading from his Bible. "Excuse me, Reverend. Could I trouble you for a moment?"

"It's no trouble, my dear. Sit down." Reverend Crane sets the Bible on his lap and pats the space next to him on the pew. She sits down, her eyes focused on the rough wooden floor. "What brings you here on this fine day?"

"My husband and I have been married for nearly six years now," Prudence begins.

"Yes, I remember that day quite well. Are you having second thoughts? I've known your husband for several years now and he seems to be a very decent fellow."

"He's a wonderful husband. The best a woman could ever hope for," she says.

"What then is troubling you?" Reverend Crane takes her hand, his touch evoking a terrible memory that causes her to shiver. "Don't be afraid, my child. Speak."

"In all the time we've been married, I've never been able to produce a child. I've tried everything I can think of to no avail." She describes these endeavors to the reverend, who frowns. "I'm sorry if I offended you, Reverend."

"No, my child. I only wish you had come to me sooner. It's the sad state of affairs today for people to put their faith in science instead of God."




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