Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1912-07-25
"The Gates Of Silence -
By Meta Sfmmfns, Author Of "Hushed Up"

since she had told herself she had moth
ing to lose. Now she knew that she had
to lose the dearest thing in the world
flesh of her flesh, her own child-and, in
losing him. all hope of ever regaining her
husbands love
Ah-it couldn't be truel 1t was only a
cold; the child was fretful with a feverish
chill. Her thoughts raced madly, and
ever beating out among them, like a
burden or the refrain of a song her hus-
bands words: He is the shield between
you and your shame" The repetition
maddened her. 1t was not of herself she
desired to think-not of herself and her
feelings. 1t wasn't decent-it was not
seemly, Her thought should be all of the
child and his sufferings and-the end of
everything!
She bent closer and scrutinized the child
with anxious eyes. Wherein lay his
magic-that magic which bound Tony to
MIN with such passionate love and devo-
ton, when She the mother who had
borne him, was repudiated-hated-d
spised?
pang of jealous anger against her
own child contracted the wretched wom-
ans heart
Ashamed and terrified, she turned away
with stified sigh. Slight as the sound
was, it woke the child. He moved I'M
easily and uttered fretful, wailing cry
The cry went to Edlth's heart, until
that moment the heart of a Jealous wife
rather than Of the loving mother. She
went swiftly to the cot and bent over the
child. He stared up, his fever b-iqht
eyes still held by sleep, then with Glad
cry Of "Muzzy" held out his hands to
her.
Sweetheart. She bent over him with
soft, grooming words, and would have
taken him in her arms but the nurse for
babe her with a Mortified exclamation.
May | not-why?" Edith's voice was
hot with Indignation. ''Where is his own
nurse-where as Nanna?" Mamma" was
Mamma Galbraith, the old woman who had
been her own nurse, who had taken the
child from birth.
Resting" said the nurse, shortly you
mustn't take him up, Mrs Darlington. No,
darling. Lie down"
She settled the clothes over the little
body and kept up a running vollev of
tender baby talk which amazed Edith
How did this woman, who was not a
mother, know just what to say and how
to say 1t, while she, whose child this was
stood by tongue bound before the love and
desire that stared at her out Of the baby
eyes? Her jealousy was ridiculous and
unnecessary, for the child struggled feebly
and kept up an incessant cry of "Muzzy-
Muzzy"
Edith slipped on her knees by the cot.
Phil, be good, my lamb Mother can't
take you up-let her hold your hand"
She spoke as she might have spoken
to some grown-up child, instead of the
morsel of humanity that moved so rest
lessly on the hot pillows, and the nurse
contrasted her in her mind with the big
man Who, all through the long night, had
kept the child quiet and wonderfully con-
tented This dressed-up doll his wife
this baby's mother!
Then, at a glance at Mrs. Barringtons
face. her thoughts changed. The eyes
that looked out of the white face under
the exquisitely dressed hair were the eyes
of a woman who has looked into the very
heart of pain.
Edith, crouching on the floor, felt the
baby fingers tighten round her own, and
the touch unlocked the flood gates of her
heart A great wave of tenderness swept
over her, carrying with it all bitterness,
all thought of self. With a cry, regard
less of the nurses remonstrance, she
caught the child up and gathered him
close against her hungry breast
The child nestled there content and it
was in that refuge he spent the weary
hours That followed, refusing even to look
at his beloved Mama lowering near in an
agony of distress. The nurse was power
less, and when the doctor came he decided
that the child must not be moved
The day wore on. Anthony Darlington,
during his visits to the nursery, forced to
a certain intimacy with the woman he be-
lieved to have so cruelty injured him,
felt his wounds throb anew at the sight of
her, felt feeling of hatred surge up
within him. The child noticed him, it was
true but it was to Edith he turned; it
was on his mother that his eyes rested
adoringly.
Each time Darlington turned away filed
with a sense of resentful injustice. Was
this the reward of his love-his devotion
to be ignored for the mother who had
proved herself so unworthy of the sacred
name?
The doctor, when he made his afternoon
visit, pronounced the child better and
complimented Mrs. Darlington on the sue
cess of her nursing-a compliment that fell
like vitrol on two jealous hearts in that
room-Anthony BarrngtonS and that of
Mamma, the nurse, sitting neglected over
the fire, seeing the child she had brought
up from the day of his birth taken from
her at this crisis.
To Be Continued in Next Issue.