Susannah groaned. Her mother, seated in front of the hearth with the baby on her lap, raised her eyes to Susannah, her features tight with concern. “Are you feeling well, Daughter? It isn’t your nature to complain.” “I am feeling well,” Susannah replied, sighing. I shall never feel well again, she thought miserably. Never, never, never. She wanted to tell her mother everything, tell her about Edward and how he had lied to her, how he had betrayed her. But Susannah knew she had to keep her broken heart a secret. Her meetings with Edward were against all rules of conduct. Susannah had sinned, and now she was paying for her sins. Paying with an empty feeling that gnawed at her without relief, paying with a heavy sadness she knew she’d never shake. Martha Goode rose from her chair, cradling the sleeping baby in one arm, and stepped up behind Susannah at the table. She put her free hand to Susannah’s forehead. “Hmmm. You feel a little warm, Daughter. Do you feel feverish?”
