Лето
XVII
Shelayinhercornerstaringatthedirtyfloor,theclothes-linehungwithdecayingrags,theoldwomanhuddledagainstthecoldstove,andthelightgraduallyspreadingacrossthewintryworld,andbringingwithitanewdayinwhichshewouldhavetolive,tochoose,toact,tomakeherselfaplaceamongthesepeople—ortogobacktothelifeshehadleft.Amortallassitudeweighedonher.Thereweremomentswhenshefeltthatallsheaskedwastogoonlyingthereunnoticed;thenhermindrevoltedatthethoughtofbecomingoneofthemiserableherdfromwhichshesprang,anditseemedasthough,tosaveherchildfromsuchafate,shewouldfindstrengthtotravelanydistance,andbearanyburdenlifemightputonher.
VaguethoughtsofNettletonflittedthroughhermind.Shesaidtoherselfthatshewouldfindsomequietplacewhereshecouldbearherchild,andgiveittodecentpeopletokeep;andthenshewouldgooutlikeJuliaHawesandearnitslivingandhers.Sheknewthatgirlsofthatkindsometimesmadeenoughtohavetheirchildrennicelycaredfor;andeveryotherconsiderationdisappearedinthevisionofherbaby,cleanedandcombedandrosy,andhiddenawaysomewherewhereshecouldruninandkissit,andbringitprettythingstowear.Anything,anythingwasbetterthantoaddanotherlifetothenestofmiseryontheMountain....
TheoldwomanandthechildrenwerestillsleepingwhenCharityrosefromhermattress.Herbodywasstiffwithcoldandfatigue,andshemovedslowlylestherheavystepsshouldrousethem.
