I couldn't help telling you
about it, because it seems as real to me as anything that ever
happened in my life; but I don't want you to have to pretend, or to
accept it in order to please me. It is just my own experience; I
was ill, unconscious, delirious, anything you please; but it is
just a blessed fact for me, for all that, a gift from God. Do you
really trust me when I say this, dearest? I don't claim a word from
you about it, but it will make all the difference to me. I can go
on now. I don't want to die, I don't want to follow--I only want
you to feel, or to learn to feel, that the child is a real child,
our very own, as much a part of our family as Jack or Cousin Anne;
and I don't even want you to SAY that. I want all to be as before;
the only difference is that I now don't feel as if I was CHOOSING.
It isn't a case of leaving him or leaving you. I have you both--and
I think you wanted me most; and I haven't a wish or a desire in my
heart but to be with you."
"Yes, dearest," said Howard, "I understand. It is perfect to be
trusted so. I won't say anything now about it. I could not say
anything. But you have put something into my heart which will
spring up and blossom. Just now there isn't room for anything in my
mind but the fact that you are given back to me; that's all I can
hold; but it won't be all. I am glad you told me this, and utterly
thankful that it is so. That you should be here, given back to me,
that must be enough now.
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