V
I
had
known the mild family slavery of early childhood, then the golden years of father’s trust and love, and then the fateful third act of death, when my parents had gone from me, leaving me to stand on my own none too sound feet almost before I had fully found myself. Now while I was still breathless with grief and while I was a young girl of eighteen—though less in knowledge and experience than other girls of my age because of the sheltered life I had always led—I was confronted with Tom, the strongest member of our family, as an enemy.
Yet do I not perhaps do him an injustice? Tom could not help seeing life as he did; nor do I think that he was naturally cruel to me. I think that his nature was a hard one, for he was greatly ambitious and would not allow anything to stand in his
