The Woman Thou Gavest Me

The Woman Thou Gavest Me, by
Hall Caine

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Woman Thou Gavest Me, by
Hall Caine This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and
with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: The Woman Thou Gavest Me Being the Story of Mary O'Neill
Author: Hall Caine
Release Date: January 4, 2005 [EBook #14597]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
WOMAN THOU GAVEST ME ***

Produced by Rick Niles, Charlie Kirschner and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.

The Woman Thou Gavest Me
Being the Story of Mary O'Neill

By HALL CAINE
Author of "The Prodigal Son," Etc.
[Illustration]
Published August, 1913

THE AUTHOR TO THE READER
How much of the story of Mary O'Neill is a work of my own
imagination, and how much comes from an authentic source I do not
consider it necessary to say. But as I have in this instance drawn more
largely and directly from fact than is usually the practice of the novelist,
I have thought it my duty to defeat all possible attempts at personal
identification by altering and disguising the more important scenes and
characters. Therefore this novel is not to be understood as referring to
any living person or persons, and the convent school described in it is
not to be identified with any similar educational institution in Rome.

MARTIN CONRAD TO THE AUTHOR
Here are the Memoranda we have talked about. Do as you like with
them. Alter, amend, add to or take away from them, exactly as you
think best. They were written in the first instance for my own eye alone,
and hence they take much for granted which may need explanation
before they can be put to the more general uses you have designed for
them. Make such explanation in any way you consider suitable. It is my
wish that in this matter your judgment should be accepted as mine. The
deep feeling you could not conceal when I told you the story of my dear
one's life gives me confidence in your discretion.
Whatever the immediate effect may be, I feel that in the end I shall be
justified--fully justified--in allowing the public to look for a little while
into the sacred confessional of my darling's stainless heart.

I heard her voice again to-day. She was right--love is immortal. God
bless her! My ever lovely and beloved one!

CONTENTS
THE NARRATIVE OF MARY O'NEILL
PAGE FIRST PART: MY GIRLHOOD 1 SECOND PART: MY
MARRIAGE 97 THIRD PART: MY HONEYMOON 135 FOURTH
PART: I FALL IN LOVE 210 FIFTH PART: I BECOME A MOTHER
308 SIXTH PART: I AM LOST 401 SEVENTH PART: I AM FOUND
505

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The name Raa (of Celtic origin with many
variations among Celtic races) is pronounced Rah in Ellan.

THE NARRATIVE OF MARY O'NEILL
FIRST PART
MY GIRLHOOD
FIRST CHAPTER
"Out of the depths, O Lord, out of the depths," begins the most
beautiful of the services of our church, and it is out of the depths of my
life that I must bring the incidents of this story.
I was an unwanted child--unwanted as a girl at all events. Father Dan
Donovan, our parish priest, told me all about it. I was born in October.
It had been raining heavily all day long. The rain was beating hard
against the front of our house and running in rivers down the
window-panes. Towards four in the afternoon the wind rose and then
the yellow leaves of the chestnuts in the long drive rustled noisily, and

the sea, which is a mile away, moaned like a dog in pain.
In my father's room, on the ground floor, Father Dan sat by the fire,
fingering his beads and listening to every sound that came from my
mother's room, which was immediately overhead. My father himself,
with his heavy step that made the house tremble, was tramping to and
fro, from the window to the ingle, from the ingle to the opposite wall.
Sometimes Aunt Bridget came down to say that everything was going
on well, and at intervals of half an hour Doctor Conrad entered in his
noiseless way and sat in silence by the fire, took a few puffs from a
long clay pipe and then returned to his charge upstairs.
My father's impatience was consuming him.
"It's long," he said, searching the doctor's face.
"Don't worry--above all don't worry," said Father Dan.
"There's no need," said Doctor Conrad.
"Then hustle back and get it over," said my father. "It will be five
hundred dollars