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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
174
And
when
Phœbe
was
coming,
I
said
to
my
husband,
‘Sam,
when
the
child
is
born,
and
I
am
strong,
I
shall
leave
you;
it
will
cut
my
heart
cruel;
but
if
this
baby
dies
too,
I
shall
go
mad;
the
madness
is
in
me
now;
but
if
you
let
me
go
down
to
Calcutta,
carrying
my
baby
step
by
step,
it
will,
maybe,
work
itself
off;
and
I
will
save,
and
I
will
hoard,
and
I
will
beg—
and
I
will
die,
to
get
a
passage
home
to
England,
where
our
baby
may
live?’
God
bless
him!
he
said
I
might
go;
and
he
saved
up
his
pay,
and
I
saved
every
pice
I
could
get
for
washing
or
any
way;
and
when
Phœbe
came,
and
I
grew
strong
again,
I
set
off.
It
was
very
lonely;
through
the
thick
forests,
dark
again
with
their
heavy
trees—
along
by
the
river’s
side
(but
I
had
been
brought
up
near
the
Avon
in
Warwickshire,
so
that
flowing
noise
sounded
like
home)—
from
station
to
station,
from
Indian
village
to
village,
I
went
along,
carrying
my
child.
I
had
seen
one
of
the
officer’s
ladies
with
a
little
picture,
ma’am—
done
by
a
Catholic
foreigner,
ma’am—
of
the
Virgin
and
the
little
Saviour,
ma’am.
She
had
him
on
her
arm,
and
her
form
was
softly
curled
round
him,
and
their
cheeks
touched.
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