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Newspaper Page Text
CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
(Copyright, 1915, by the Newspaper Enterprise Association.)
I hardly sensed what they were
saying. The words "little book" did
not nfean anything to me. I wished
they would not talk. I -only wanted
to be let alone. I did not open my
eyes or turn my head when Dick bent
over me. "I'll be back soon, darling,"
he said, and I felt his hand on my
cheek in a fleeting caress.
And then I only roused enough to
drink some kind of broth that the
nurse held to my lips.
Along late in the afternoon I felt
something hard against my side and
turning I found you "you, little
book. For a moment I did not realize
just what you meant to me and then
Aunt Mary said, "Shall I unlock it,
dear?" I did not answer, but as she
placed the key in the little box that
was one of my childish treasures and
in which I had placed my "little
book," each volume as it was finished,
I remembered. Something burst the
terrible bonds that had bound my
heart with stifling bands. The flood
gates opened and with tears and sobs
I held you inanimate but always un
derstanding companion to my heart.
For hours I held you thus, but I
could not get the courage to open
you, for I knew that within your soul
were all those dear confidences all
those hopes all those anticipated
joys which I could now never realize.
O, little book, little book, the sight
of you brought it all back to me.
Aunt Mary placed a pencil in my
hand, the nurse fixed the bed table
so that I could write and they went
out of the room and left me alone
with you. As memory opened the
door of my long closed brain I saw
again the preparations, heard Dick's
quick, nervous calls for doctor and
nurse, and felt that quick grip of
agony that told me my hour had
I had welcomed it, for I thought "in
a little while I will have my baby
my very own baby for whom no one
else will ever suffer as I am suffering
"You look perfectly happy, Mrs.
Waverly," said the nurse, as she bus
ied herself making preparations for
my comfort and the advent of the
"I am perfectly happy," I said.
"Isn't every woman in my situation
The nurse looked at me queerly.
"No," she answered shortly. "A
woman faces the pangs of childbirth
as she does everything else, accord
ing to her character. Some are sto
ics, keeping always in front of them
the fact that they must bear what
comes without making a sound. Oth
ers rail and even curse. Most women,
however, show remarkable courage
and fortitude, but I must say, Mrs.
Waverly, even when a bahy is wanted
as much as you do yours, I have
rarely seen such radiant anticipation
on an immediately expectant moth
er's face. You do not show a sign of
fear and you are as calm as you
look," she said, and her hand rested
on my pulse.
I was very calm. I helped to ar
range everything, for all the while I
felt that I was only waiting for the
crown of womanhood to be placed
upon my head.
"My arms are waiting my heart,
is singing lullabys come quickly
come quickly, dearest," I said to my
self and then my whole strength
was marshalled to confront the
dreadful agonizing spector of pain.
(To Be Continued Tomorrow.) r
Mrs. Exe Did the lawyer for the
defense submit you to a cross-exam'
Mrs. Wye No, indeed; he was justJt
as pleasant about it as he could be:J
Detroit Free Press. 3
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