The New Uncanny
“His mother had been young and at the end of a long and very hard labour, made more exhausting by the size of the baby’s head. The mid-wife had acted promptly, gathering in the baby and carrying it away. She had washed and dressed it, before bringing it back to the mother, with a delicate lawn and lace bonnet framing its sweet little face. The mother had taken the child in her arms and smiled, though wearily; but she had made no apparent attempt to count its toes, fingers, eyes and mouths, and a...fter a moment the midwife had turned away to her immediate duties. When she turned back the mother was dead; her face was frozen in a strange rictus, which might have been the consequence of a sudden sharp pain or might have been terror. The midwife, a woman of sturdy good sense and addicted to neither gin nor gossip, deftly massaged the mother’s face back into a more seemly expression and closed her large blue eyes forever.
His father, a hero of the nation, loved admired and honoured, but now retired to his family home in the mountains, grew gentle and sad.MoreLess
His father, a hero of the nation, loved admired and honoured, but now retired to his family home in the mountains, grew gentle and sad.MoreLess
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