The Way Home (40 page)

Well! . . . sitting crying wasn't the way to begin. That was a fool's job. She must just set her teeth and make the best of things -- separation, uncertainty, responsibility -- endeavouring, when it came to business, to stand her ground, even though she was but an inexperienced woman. And as a first step she got up, dried her eyes, and bathed her face. After which she had trunks and saratogas brought out, and fell to packing

But more and more, as the day wore on, did a single thought take possession of her -- and, in this thought, Mary came as near as she ever would, to a conscious reflection on the aim and end of existence. It began with her suddenly becoming aware how she longed to hug her babies to her again, and how much she had missed them; a feeling until now resolutely repressed . . . for Richard's sake. Now, as, in imagination, she gathered her little ones to her heart -- and gathered Richard with them, he, too, just an adored and absent child -- it came over her like a flash that, amid life's ups and downs, to be able to keep one's little flock about one, to know one's dearest human relationships safe and unharmed, was, in good truth, all that signified. Compared with this, hardships and misfortune weighed no more than feathers in the balance.

"As long as we can be together . . . as long as I have him and my children . . . nothing really matters. I can bear anything . . . put up with anything . . . if only they are spared me!"