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Chapter 3

           Asachild,sheoftenhadcrepttothedoorand,peepingthroughthetiniestcrack,hadseenEllenemergefromthedarkroom,whereGerald’ssnoreswererhythmicanduntroubled,intotheflickeringlightofanupheldcandle,hermedicinecaseunderherarm,herhairsmoothedneatlyplace,andnobuttononherbasqueunlooped.

           IthadalwaysbeensosoothingtoScarletttohearhermotherwhisper,firmlybutcompassionately,asshetiptoeddownthehall:"Hush,notsoloudly.YouwillwakeMr.O’Hara.Theyarenotsickenoughtodie."

           Yes,itwasgoodtocreepbackintobedandknowthatEllenwasabroadinthenightandeverythingwasright.

           Inthemornings,afterall-nightsessionsatbirthsanddeaths,whenoldDr.FontaineandyoungDr.Fontainewerebothoutoncallsandcouldnotbefoundtohelpher,Ellenpresidedatthebreakfasttableasusual,herdarkeyescircledwithwearinessbuthervoiceandmannerrevealingnoneofthestrain.Therewasasteelyqualityunderherstatelygentlenessthatawedthewholehousehold,Geraldaswellasthegirls,thoughhewouldhavediedratherthanadmitit.

           SometimeswhenScarletttiptoedatnighttokisshertallmother’scheek,shelookedupatthemouthwithitstooshort,tootenderupperlip,amouthtooeasilyhurtbytheworld,andwonderedifithadevercurvedinsillygirlishgigglingorwhisperedsecretsthroughlongnightstointimategirlfriends.Butno,thatwasn’tpossible.Motherhadalwaysbeenjustasshewas,apillarofstrength,afountofwisdom,theonepersonwhoknewtheanswerstoeverything.

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