Chapter XVIII

FORdaysBerthawasoverwhelmedwithgrief.Shethoughtalwaysofthedeadchildthathadneverlived,andherheartached.Butaboveallshewastormentedbytheideathatallherpainhadbeenfutileshehadgonethroughsomuch,hersleepstillwasfullofthepastagony,andithadbeenutterly,utterlyuseless.Herbodywasmutilatedsothatshewondereditwaspossibleforhertorecovershehadlostheroldbuoyancy,thatvitalitywhichhadbeensoenjoyable,andshefeltlikeanoldwoman.Hersenseofwearinesswasunendurable—shewassotiredthatitseemedtoherimpossibletogetrest.Shelayinbed,dayafterday,inapostureofhopelessfatigue,onherback,witharmsstretchedoutalongsideofher,thepillowssupportingherhead:allherlimbsweresingularlypowerless. Recoverywasveryslow,andEdwardsuggestedsendingforMissLey,butBertharefused. “Idon’twanttoseeanybody,”shesaid“Imerelywanttoliestillandbequiet.” Itboredhertospeakwithpeople,andevenheraffections,forthetime,weredormant:shelookeduponEdwardassomeoneapartfromher,hispresenceandabsencegavenoparticularemotion.Shewastired,anddesiredonlytobeleftalone.Allsympathywasunnecessaryanduseless,sheknewthatnoonecouldenterintothebitternessofhersorrow,andshepreferredtobearitalone. Littlebylittle,however,Bertharegainedstrengthandconsentedtoseethefriendswhocalled,somegenuinelysorry,othersimpelledmerelybyasenseofdutyorbyaghoul-likecuriosity.MissGlover,atthisperiod,wasagreattrialthegoodcreaturefeltforBerthathesincerestsympathy,butherfeelingswereonething,hersenseofrightandwronganother.Shedidnotthinktheyoungwifetookherafflictionwithproperhumility.Graduallyarebelliousfeelinghadreplacedtheextremeprostrationofthebeginning,andBertharagedattheinjusticeofherlot.MissGlovercameeveryday,bringingflowersandgoodadvicebutBerthawasnotdocile,andrefusedtobesatisfiedwithMissGlover’spiousconsolations.WhenthegoodcreaturereadtheBible,Berthalistenedwithafirmerclosingofherlips,sullenly. “DoyoulikemetoreadtheBibletoyou,dear?”askedtheparson’ssisteronce. AndBertha,drivenbeyondherpatience,couldnotasusualcommandhertongue. “Ifitamusesyou,dear,”sheanswered,bitterly. “Oh,Bertha,you’renottakingitintheproperspirit—you’resorebellious,andit’swrong,it’sutterlywrong.” “Icanonlythinkofmybaby,”saidBertha,hoarsely. “Whydon’tyoupraytoGod,dear—shallIofferashortprayernow,Bertha?” “No,Idon’twanttopraytoGod—He’seitherimpotentorcruel.” “Bertha,”criedMissGlover.“Youdon’tknowwhatyou’resaying.Oh,praytoGodtomeltyourstubbornnesspraytoGodtoforgiveyou.” “Idon’twanttobeforgiven.I’vedonenothingthatneedsit.It’sGodwhoneedsmyforgiveness—notIHis.” “Youdon’tknowwhatyou’resaying,Bertha,”repliedMissGlover,verygravelyandsorrowfully. BerthawasstillsoillthatMissGloverdarednotpressthesubject,b