be praised for this truth, however—that in the natural innocence of the good heart is neither understanding of the petty prejudices of society, nor room for cavilling against fate. Although a mark for the wit and a butt for the scorn of men, such a heart is so allied with the larger perception of things that it cannot see. Not with weeping or self-berating, therefore, was her heart now filled. Not with selfish regrets as a vain remorse. Sorrow there was, it is true, but only a mellow phase of it, a vague uncertainty and wonder, which would sometimes cause her eyes to fill with tears.
You have heard the wood-dove calling in the lone stillness of the summertime, you have found the unheeded brooklet singing and babbling where no ear comes to hear. Under dead leaves and snowbanks the delicate arbutus unfolds its simple blossom, answering some heavenly call for color. So, too, this other flower of womanhood.
Jennie was left alone, but like the wood-dove she was a voice of sweetness in the summertime. Going about her household duties, she was content to await without murmur the fulfillment of that process for which, after all, she was but the sacrificial implement. When her duties were lightest, she was content to sit in quiet meditation, the marvel of life holding her as in a trance. When she was heaviest pressed to aid her mother, she would sometimes find herself quietly singing, the pleasure of work lifting her out of herself. Always she was content to face the future with an earnest desire to struggle and make amends.
To those who cannot understand this attitude in one not sheltered by the conventions, not housed in comfort and protected by the love and care of a husband, it must be explained again that we are not dealing with the ordinary temperament. The latter—the customary small nature, even when buoyed by communal advice and assistance—is apt to see in a situation of this kind only terror and danger. Nature is unkind to permit the minor type of woman to bear a child at all. The larger natures in their maturity welcome motherhood, see in it the immense possibilities of racial fulfillment, find joy and satisfaction in being the handmaiden of so immense a purpose or direction.
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