"I feared you had gone to sleep and might be jolted out," he said; "you sat
so quietly."

"No; do not talk to me; I am not asleep;" but after a time she said
suddenly: "It must be a terrible thing to bring a human being into the
world."

Waldo looked round; she sat drawn into the corner, her blue cloud wound
tightly about her, and she still watched the horses' feet. Having no
comment to offer on her somewhat unexpected remark, he merely touched up
his horses.

"I have no conscience, none," she added; "but I would not like to bring a
soul into this world. When it sinned and when it suffered something like a
dead hand would fall on me--'You did it, you, for your own pleasure you
created this thing! See your work!' If it lived to be eighty it would
always hang like a millstone round my neck, have the right to demand good
from me, and curse me for its sorrow. A parent is only like to God--if his
work turns out bad, so much the worse for him; he dare not wash his hands
of it. Time and years can never bring the day when you can say to your
child: 'Soul, what have I to do with you?'"

Waldo said dreamingly:

"It is a marvellous thing that one soul should have power to cause
another."

She heard the words as she heard the beating of the horses' hoofs; her
thoughts ran on in their own line.