"I have never blamed him for my past weakness, however I have blamed
him for his unholy marriage. Our fault was mutual. I was no
ignorant child; while young in years, I had sufficient knowledge of
human nature to protect myself had I used my will-power and my
reason. Like many another woman, I used neither; unlike the
majority, I did not repent my sin or its consequences. I have ever
believed you to be a more divinely born being than any children who
may have resulted from my lover's unholy marriage. I die strong in
the belief. God bless you, my dear child, and farewell."
Joy sat silent and pale like one in a trance for a long time after
she had finished reading. Then she said aloud, "So I am another like
Marah Adams; it was this knowledge which caused the rector to write
me that strange letter. It was this knowledge which sent him away
without coming to say one word of adieu. The woman who sent me the
message, sent it to him also. Well, I can be as brave as my mother
was. I, too, can disappear."
She arose and began silently and rapidly to make preparations for a
journey. She felt a nervous haste to get away from something--from
all things. Everything stable in the world seemed to have slipped
from her hold in the last few days. Home, mother, love, and now hope
and pride were gone too. She worked for more than two hours without
giving vent to even a sigh. Then suddenly she buried her face in her
hands and sobbed aloud: "Oh, mother, mother, you were not ashamed,
but I am ashamed for you! Why was I ever born? God forgive me for
the sinful thought, but I wish you had lied to me in place of telling
me the truth."