Deep Summer by Gwen Bristow Page A

about to be born, and she would like to have the chance before it was born to say she was sorry she had been so foolish about the looking-glass and scolded him like that for forgetting the plaster. Yes, she must be hard to live with. She did try to hold her tongue, but when it got the better of her she could say things that were pretty nasty.
    The pain grabbed at her and Judith held the window-sill with both hands. Josh came in and piled up the wood. When he had gone out she began to think maybe she ought to go to bed. Women who had babies had them in bed. She asked Angelique to bring her a bedgown, and Angelique undressed her, stopping to let Judith hold to her shoulders when the pains came. But when Judith tried to climb into bed Angelique held her back.
    “No, no,” she said. “No. Walk.”
    That was strange. But she walked up and down obediently. Angelique was gentle and sympathetic, and she kept murmuring soft things in French, incomprehensible but comforting.
    Judith began to think it really wasn’t so awful to have a baby. The pains were getting rather bad, but they weren’t unbearable.
    But as it got dark, Philip did not come back and the pains got worse and worse and worse. They came so close together that she could hardly catch her breath between them, and while they were wrenching at her she couldn’t breathe at all, but only hold on to Angelique and make little tormented gasps in her throat. Angelique was so dear and gentle. But Judith wished for Philip. He should be back by now. She could lean on him as hard as she wanted to, and sometimes Angelique stumbled when Judith caught at her. Besides, it did take a good deal of pain to have a baby and Philip ought to be here to appreciate it. Then maybe he’d forgive her for being so quicktempered.
    Angelique said, “You hold de bed, young miss. De fire, he go out for more wood.”
    Judith held to the bedpost while Angelique put logs on the fire. The pains came faster and harder. Judith bit on her fingers. She held the bedpost tight and would not scream. Angelique looked up and said, “You good brave lady, young miss.”
    It occurred to Judith that this was quite a lot of pain. It was dark outside and it must have been several hours since the first one struck her. A lot of curious things were going on in her body that she hadn’t expected at all, though Angelique didn’t seem surprised. But the baby ought to be getting itself born by now.
    “How much longer does this last, Angelique?” she inquired unsteadily.
    Angelique looked up from the fire. “Ma’am?”
    “I said—” Judith stopped, for the pain had caught her again and she wrapped both arms around the bedpost and found herself clamping her teeth on the wood to stiffen her through it. As it passed she managed to jerk out, “I said—how much longer—does this go on?”
    Angelique stopped tending the fire. She stood up slowly. “Pauvre petite,” she said gently and she came over and took Judith in her arms and kissed her forehead. She did not say anything else. But Judith understood that this was not the end. The pain began clawing at her again. By this time it was agony pure and simple and Judith thought if this wasn’t the last she would rather die now than have the baby born at all. But nothing happened. Angelique tried to make her walk again when Judith’s relaxing muscles told her this one was passing, but Judith fell down when she tried to take a step. As Angelique bent to help her up she managed to gasp out:
    “Please let me lie down, Angelique! Please!”
    Angelique let her go to bed then. Avalanches of torment came over her, so fast she thought she was going to split in two and she bit her arms till blood seeped through the prints of her teeth. She remembered how the woman in the quarters had screamed and didn’t blame her. Angelique sat by her and wiped her forehead.
    She could see everything so clearly, the broken cabin walls and the leaning roof, and the clothes hanging on pegs