Monolouge Written from the Point of View of Rhoda Brook in the Withered Arm by Thomas Hardy

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Merely a milkmaid they whispered, residing within the sheltered boundaries of their fathers estates. She's the mother of Lodges child? They scoffed as I hurried past, striving to prevent my son from hearing their taunts. Why would he choose someone with such a outdoors complexion? They'd loudly ponder as I struggled home from the dairy, as they were delicately served breakfast. These were the women that should have been the mother of his child, women who never lifted a finger, women with fine clothes and pale skin. Women like Gertrude. I knew from the moment I lay eyes on him, that I did not belong with him. Two people from two different worlds, whose paths should only cross on the day he inspected the dairy or other such formalities. Never to share unnecessary words or inappropriate emotions, passion forbidden. Perhaps that's why I am here, perhaps that was my gravest mistake, I broke the rules that society had set for me. Those dammed broken rules, that lead to my broken heart. For eighteen years, I coped. I knew he'd never come for me I would never satisfy expectations, but I had hoped that he would come for his son. His only son. A son, he could of offered a better life for than I. I had hoped they would meet sooner than now, sooner than his son's deathbed. It wasn't the lack of money and worldly good than ended my boy, it was the lack of a man to look up to, a role model, the lack of a father. He came, i suppose, but he came too late the damage was done. No money, no remorse, no support will bring him back nor turn back time. For it is just too late. But i will carry on, like i've always done, for women like Gertrude are worlds away from my life, perhaps I should be thankful, her vanity killed her, but that is what society dictates. So I shall resume to my work, till my form becomes bent, and my dark hair white and worn away by the long pressure against

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