"Nothing could make me do it," I used to think, "nothing in this world."
But O God! how little I knew then what is in a woman's heart to do when
she has a child to live for, and is helpless and alone!
I cannot expect anybody to forgive me for what I did (or attempted to
do), and now that the time has come to tell of it my hand trembles, and
body and soul seem to be quivering like a flame.
May God (who has brought everything to such a glorious end) have mercy
on me and forgive me, and help me to be true!
NINETY-NINTH CHAPTER
The worst consequence of my West End journeys was that my nightly visits
to Ilford were fewer than before, and that the constant narrowing of the
margin between my income and my expenses made it impossible for me to go
there during the day.
As a result my baby received less and less attention, and I could not be
blind to the fact that she was growing paler and thinner.
At length she developed a cough which troubled me a great deal. Mrs.
Oliver made light of it, saying a few pennyworths of paregoric would
drive it away, so I hurried off to a chemist, who recommended a soothing
syrup of his own, saying it was safer and more effectual for a child.
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