The Woman Thou Gavest Me

you to break more blood
vessels. So we are consulting your welfare as well as the girl's in
sending her away."

My mother's timid soul could bear no more. I think it must have been the
only moment of anger her gentle spirit ever knew, but, gathering all her
strength, she turned upon Aunt Bridget in ungovernable excitement.

"Bridget," she said, "you are doing nothing of the kind. You know you
are not. You are only trying to separate me from my child and my child
from me. When you came to my house I thought you would be kinder to my
child than a anybody else, but you have not been, you have been cruel to
her, and shut your heart against her, and while I have been helpless
here, and in bed, you have never shown her one moment of love and
kindness. No, you have no feeling except for your own, and it never
occurs to you that having brought your own child into my house you are
trying to turn my child out of it."

"So that's how you look at it, is it?" said Aunt Bridget, with a flash
of her cold grey eyes. "I thought I came to this house--your house as
you call it--only out of the best intentions, just to spare you trouble
when you were ill and unable, to attend to your duties as a wife. But
because I correct your child when she is wilful and sly and
wicked. . . ."

"Correct your own child, Bridget O'Neill!" cried my mother, "and leave
mine to me. She's all I have and it isn't long I shall have her. You
know quite well how much she has cost me, and that I haven't had a very
happy married life, but instead of helping me with her father. . . ."

"Say no more," said Aunt Bridget, "we don't want you to hurt yourself
again, and to allow this ill-conditioned child to be the cause of
another hemorrhage."

"Bridget O'Neill," cried my mother, rising up from her chair, "you are a
hard-hearted woman with a bad disposition. You know as well as I do that
it wasn't Mary who made me ill, but you--you, who reproached me and
taunted me about my child until my heart itself had to bleed. For seven
ye

Sir Thomas Henry Hall Caine CH, KBE (May 14, 1853August 31, 1931), usually known as Hall Caine, was a British author. He is best known as a novelist and playwright of the late Victorian and the Edwardian eras. In his time he was exceedingly popular and at the peak of his success his novels outsold those of his contemporaries. Many of his novels were also made into films. His novels were primarily romantic in nature, involving the love triangle, but they did also address some of the more serious political and social issues of the day.

nutki nuty nuty Henryk Siemiradzki Jerzy Faczynski Jacek Malczewski Michalowski

Harold MacGrath (September 4, 1871 - October 30, 1932) was a bestselling American novelist, short story writer, and screenwriter. Also known occasionally as Harold McGrath, he was born in Syracuse, New York. As a young man, he worked as a reporter and columnist on the Syracuse Herald newspaper until the late 1890s when he published his first novel, a romance titled Arms and the Woman. According to the New York Times, his next book, The Puppet Crown, was the No.7 bestselling book in the United States for all of 1901. From that point on, MacGrath never looked back, writing novels for the mass market about love, adventure, mystery, spies, and the like at an average rate of more than one a year. He would have three more of his books that were among the top ten bestselling books of the year. At the same time, he penned a number of short stories for major American magazines such as The Saturday Evening Post, Ladies Home Journal, and Red Book magazine. Several of MacGraths novels were seriali

Mabel Collins (9 September 1851 - 31 March 1927) was a theosophist and author of over 46 books. She was born in St Peter Port, Guernsey.

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