human
You forget a little what this must be to me, mother.
gpt
Light in darkness.
human
I hadn't thought that; an the gert world won't pity me, as you did when I first told you.
gpt
You ban't feared o' the world, be you? The world forgot un. 'T was your awn word. What's the world to you, knawin' what you knaw? Do 'e want to be treated soft by what was allus hell-hard to him? Four-and-thirty short years he lived, then the world beginned to ope its eyes to his paarts, an' awnly then--tu late, when the thread of his days was spun. What's the world to you and why should you care for its word, Chris Blanchard?
human
Because I am Chris Blanchard, she said.
gpt
I was gwaine to kill myself, but thought to see his dear face wance more before I done it. Now--
human
Kill yourself! God's mercy! 'T will be killing Clem again if you do! You caan't; you wouldn't dare; theer's black damnation in it an' flat murder now. Hear me, for Christ's sake, if that's the awful thought in you: you'm God's chosen tool in this--chosen to suffer an' bring a bwoy in the world--Clem's bwoy. Doan't you see how't is? 'Kill yourself'! How can 'e dream it? You've got to bring a bwoy, I tell 'e, to keep us from both gwaine stark mad. 'T was foreordained he should leave his holy likeness. God's truth! You should be proud 'stead o' fearful--such a man as he was. Hold your head high an' pray when none's lookin', pray through every wakin' hour an' watch yourself as you'd watch the case of a golden jewel. What wise brain will think hard of you for followin' the chosen path? What odds if a babe's got ringless under the stars or in a lawful four-post bed? Who married Adam an' Eve? You was the wife of un 'cordin' to the first plan o' the livin' God; an' if He changed His lofty mind when't was tu late, blame doan't fall on you or the dead. Think of a baaby--his baaby--under your breast! Think of meetin' him in time to come, wi' another soul got in sheer love! Better to faace the people an' let the bairn come to fulness o' life than fly them an' cut your days short an' go into the next world empty-handed. Caan't you see it? What would Clem say? He'd judge you hard--such a lover o' li'l childer as him. 'T is the first framework of an immortal soul you've got unfoldin', like a rosebud hid in the green, an' ban't for you to nip that life for your awn whim an' let the angels in heaven be fewer by wan. You must live. An' the bwoy'll graw into a tower of strength for 'e--a tower of strength an' a glass belike wheer you'll see Clem rose again.
gpt
The shame of it. My mother and Will--Will who's a hard judge, an' such a clean man.