"
She paused. Her wise sweet face grew deeply, reverently tender.
"We soon grew to see that mother-love has more than one
channel of expression. I think the reason our children are so--so
fully loved, by all of us, is that we never--any of us--have
enough of our own."
This seemed to me infinitely pathetic, and I said so. "We have
much that is bitter and hard in our life at home," I told her, "but this
seems to me piteous beyond words--a whole nation of starving mothers!"
But she smiled her deep contented smile, and said I quite misunderstood.
"We each go without a certain range of personal joy," she said, "but
remember--we each have a million children to love and serve--OUR children."
It was beyond me. To hear a lot of women talk about "our children"!
But I suppose that is the way the ants and bees would talk--do talk, maybe.
That was what they did, anyhow.
When a woman chose to be a mother, she allowed the child-
longing to grow within her till it worked its natural miracle.
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