erk in prison after all, and
herself with him. She would have to humble herself before him, she would
have to promise to go and live with him in London, do all she possibly
could to make his marriage easy for him. He did not want to marry her,
and she did not want to marry him, but there was no help for it, they
must marry now, because of what their love had given them before it
died.

She had no tears for this new tragedy. She leaned forward in her seat,
her hands clasped between her knees, her eyes staring blankly at the
carriage wall as if she saw there her future written ... herself and
Albert growing old together, or rather herself growing old while Albert
lived through his eager, selfish youth--herself and Albert shut up
together ... how he would scold her, how he would reproach her--he would
say "You have brought me to this," and in time he would come to hate
her, his fellow-prisoner who had shut the door on both of them--and he
would hate her child ... they would never have married except for the
child, so he would hate her child, scold it, make it miserable ... it
would grow up in an unhappy home, with parents who did not love each
other, who owed it a grudge for coming to them--her child, her precious
child....

Still in her heart, alive under all the fear, was that thrill of divine
joy which had come to her in the first moment of realization. Terror,
shame, despair--none of them could kill it, for that joy was a part of
her being, part of the new being which had quickened in her. It belonged
to them both--it was the secret they shared ... joy, unutterable joy.
Yes, she was glad she was going to have this child--she would still be
glad even in the prison-house of marriage, she would still be glad even
in the desert of no-marriage, every tongue wagging, every finger
pointing, every heart despising. Nothing could take her joy from
her--make her less than joyful mother....

Then as the joy grew and rose above the fear, she knew that she could
never let fear drive her into bondage. Nothing should make a sacrifice
of joy to shame--to save herself she would not bring up her child in the
sorrow and degradation of a loveless home.... If she had been strong
enough to give up the thought of marriage for the sake of Bertie's
liberty and her own self-respect, she could be strong enough now to turn
from her only hope of reputation for the sake of the new life which was
joy within her. It would be the worst, most shatter