Father Dan had been right--I could not get away from that. The Reverend
Mother had been right, too--other women might forget that they had
broken the Divine law but I never should. If I married Martin and went
away with him, I should always be thinking of the falseness of my
position, and that would make me unhappy. It would also make Martin
unhappy to witness my unhappiness, and that would be the worst
bitterness life could bring.
Then what was left to me? If it was impossible that I should bury myself
in a convent it was equally impossible that I should live alone, and
Martin in the same world with me.
Not all the spiritual pride I could conjure up in the majesty and
solemnity of my self-sacrifice could conquer the yearning of my heart as
a woman. Not all my religious fervour could keep me away from Martin. In
spite of my conscience, sooner or later I should go to him--I knew quite
well I should. And my child, instead of being a barrier dividing us,
would be a natural bond calling on us and compelling us to come
together.
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