Thomas Hardy

“ These were hotels or coffee-houses in Chelsea, Pimlico, or Hammersmith. The woman, being well paid, always came, and asked no questions. At one meeting--at an inn in Hammersmith--she made her appearance without the child, and told the girl it was so ill that it would not live through the night. The news, and fatigue, brought on a fainting-fit . . .'
Miss Aldclyffe's sobs choked her utterance, and she became painfully agitated. Cytherea, pale and amazed at what she heard, wept for her, bent over her, and begged her not to go on speaking. ”

“ Cytherea, you know who that weak woman is.
* * * * * 'By such toilsome labour as this I got him here as my steward. And I wanted to see him _your husband_, Cytherea!--the husband of my true lover's child. It was a sweet dream to me. . . . Pity me--O, pity me! To die unloved is more than I can bear! I loved your father, and I love him now.'
That was the burden of Cytherea Aldclyffe. ”

“ Inexperience now perceived what it was to be loved in spirit and in truth! But it was too late. Had he known her secret he would have cast her out. She withdrew from him by an effort, and pined.
'Years and years afterwards, when she became mistress of a fortune and estates by her father's death, she formed the weak scheme of having near her the son whom, in her father's life-time, she had been forbidden to recognize. ”