The Woman who Did by Grant Allen

No position in life is more terrible to face than that of the widowed mother left alone in the world with her unborn baby. When the child is her first one, -- when, besides the natural horror and agony of the situation, she has also to confront the unknown dangers of that new and dreaded experience, -- her plight is still more pitiable. But when the widowed mother is one who has never been a wife, -- when in addition to all these pangs of bereavement and fear, she has further to face the contempt and hostility of a sneering world, as Herminia had to face it, -- then, indeed, her lot becomes well-nigh insupportable; it is almost more than human nature can bear up against. So Herminia found it. She might have died of grief and loneliness then and there, had it not been for the sudden and unexpected rousing of her spirit of opposition by Dr. Merrick's words. That cruel speech gave her the will and the power to live. It saved her from madness.

She drew herself up at once with an injured woman's pride, and, facing her dead Alan's father with a quick access of energy, --