Her friends were very few, none of
them likely to be of use to her. Left very much to her own control,
she made an acquaintance which led to secret intimacy and open
disaster. Rather than face her father with such a disclosure, she
left home, and threw herself upon the mercy of the man who had
assisted her to go astray. He was generous enough to support her for
about a year, during which time her child was born. Then his help
ceased.
The familiar choice lay before her--home again, the streets, or
starvation. Hardship she could not bear; the second alternative she
shrank from on account of her child; she determined to face her
father. For him she had no affection, and knew that he did not love
her; only desperation could drive her back. She came one Sunday
evening, found Mr. Woodstock at home, and, without letting the
servant say who was come, went up and entered his presence, the
child in her arms. Abraham rose and looked at her calmly. Her
disappearance had not troubled him, though he had exerted himself to
discover why and whither she was gone, and her return did not
visibly affect him. She was a rebel against his authority--so he
viewed the matter--and consequently quite beyond the range of his
sympathies.
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