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Updated: June 1, 2025
The mother-hunger made her faint with longing for a woman's arms around her, for a woman's tears of joy to mingle with her own. "Take me to her," Rosemary pleaded. "Take me now!" Madame saw them coming and went to the door to meet them. Rosemary was not at all what she had fancied in the way of a daughter-in-law, but, wisely, she determined to make the best of Alden's choice.
Her vitality, her strength, her indomitable energy, impressed him as no woman's had ever done before. When she had finished her story she suddenly caught Patsy out of her father's arms and dropped with him into a chair, all the mother-hunger in her still unsatisfied. She smothered him with kisses and hugged him to her breast, holding his pinched face against her ruddy cheek.
'Well, children, said the lady, 'I have made up my mind. I'll take this baby home for the night. My husband will think me mad anyone in their senses would think me mad, but I'm nearly wild with mother-hunger, and that little mite there, pointing to Flossy, 'guessed it, and she brought me the baby, and I say God bless her for it, whether she's a ragamuffin or not. Yes, I have made up my mind.
It was not, however, any intention of carrying off her child to share her present lot, but the urgings of mere mother-hunger for a sight of her, that drove her to the Hall. When she had succeeded in enticing her out of sight of the house, however, the longing to possess her grew fierce; and braving all consequences, or rather, I presume, unable to weigh them, she did carry her away.
She saw the look in those eyes which she had recognised for the first time that day at French Village the terrible mother-hunger look of love, ready to die for its own. And though the girl said nothing, Ruth could hear the warning words: Remember! You love Jeffrey Whiting. How well that girl knew!
"I was afeared this cold weather they wadna lay good without a warm bite now and then." Duncan laughed as he stepped to the other room for his pipe; but Freckles faced Mrs. Duncan with a trace of every pang of starved mother-hunger he ever had suffered written large on his homely, splotched, narrow features. "Oh, how I wish you were my mother!" he cried. Mrs.
"It's simply horrid to have all this a second time, and Ariadne so little yet. It's mean of Paul." She continued voicing an indignant sympathy with her usual energy. Lydia looked at her with a vague smile. At the first words of the childless woman, she had been filled with the mother-hunger which gave savor to her life during those days.
Moore's industry who would have moved the reader deeply with such a scene. But, if Mr. Moore feels at all, he is ashamed to show it. This mother-hunger is apparently just as affecting a thing to him as the position of the chest of drawers between the two windows a fact made note of, and, therefore, to be chronicled.
And yet, so soon, into the woman's eyes had come the look of wistfulness, almost of prayer, as though she had suddenly come face to face with the knowledge that love, like a child, is man's to give and woman's to keep, to guard, to nourish, to suffer for, and, perhaps, last of all, to lose. The mother-hunger woke in Rosemary a strange longing.
"For the first week I got on pretty well. The new life helped to divert my thoughts, and I tried to believe I could do well without my mother. But then the knowledge that I had done wrong, joined to a desperate mother-hunger, I can call it by no other word, took possession of me. I got to hate my aunt, who led a gay life. At last I could bear it no longer. I ran away.
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