Argosy, September 1955 — page 123: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE CHRYSALIDS 121 My father was not a man to leave his attitude unexplained. “I don’t understand how you dared to come to a godfearing house with such a suggestion,” he told her. ‘“‘ Worse still, you don’t show a trace of shame.”’ Aunt Harriet’s voice was steadier as she answered: ‘“‘ Why should I? I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. I am not ashamed—only beaten. I have done my best to save my baby. I can’t do any more.”’ ‘“* Not ashamed!” repeated my father. ‘‘ Not ashamed of pro- ducing a mockery of your Maker—or of trying to plan a criminal conspiracy!’”’ He took a breath, and launched off in his pulpit style: ‘‘’The enemies of God work to distort the true image: through the weak vessels they attempt to defile the race. ‘There is one defence only—eternal vigilance for the impurities they attempt to send among us. Deviation, any deviation from the true image is blasphemy... “If you had your way, your child would grow to breed and, breeding, spread pollution until all around us there would be mutants and abominations. Shame on you, woman! Now go!”’ ‘There were two light footsteps. ‘The baby gave a little whimper as Aunt Harriet picked it up. At the door she paused. ‘““T shall pray,” she said. ‘‘I shall pray God to send charity into this hideous world, and sympathy for the weak, and love for the unhappy and unfortunate. I shall pray Him, too, that the hearts of the self-righteous may be broken.” Then the door closed behind her, and she passed slowly along the passage. — I moved cautiously to the window again. I saw her lay the white bundle gently in the trap. She unhitched the horse, climbed up, and took the bundle onto her lap, with one arm round it. For a moment she turned a face as blank and hard as granite towards the house. Then she shook the reins and drove off. Behind me, in the next room, my father was saying, “ I could never have believed such wickedness in a sister of yours. But sometimes women get strange ideas at these times. We must pray for her.”’ My mother started to answer, but her voice cracked, and she began to cry. I had never heard her cry before. My father went on explaining about the importance of Purity. I could not help feeling a great curiosity about the baby, but I never found out what was wrong. When they broke the news to me next day that my Aunt Harriet had been found drowned in the river, nO one mentioned a baby. Though there was much that I did not understand in what I had overheard, it was quite the most disturbing thing that had ever happened to me. For several nights I dreamt of Aunt Harriet lying in the river, with her open eyes seeing nothing, while her hair swirled round her pale face, and her arms still clasped the white bundle to her. And I was very frightened . . . comiclbooks.conn