Chapter One<br >THE LAST BORN<br >The mother lay exhausted on the big bed; the new-born<br >babe， in the midwife s steady hands， lay on a white-draped<br >table， crying weakly. Outside， the father， tall and young<br >and emotion-torn， sat back in an old armchair， which had<br >been in this cottage for generations. He looked almost as<br >exhausted as his wife， his face porcelain white against the<br >(lense black of his hair.<br > The doctor， Reginald Maddern， M.D.， who had served<br >the village and dozens around for over twenty years yet<br >was still in his middle-forties， moved across the bedroom as<br >the midwife turned the infant over on its side， impersonal<br >as if she were dealing with clay. Maddern was an ordinary-<br >l~，oking man with thinning， greying hair， tired eyes， a snub<br >nose and a weak chin， if one judged it weak if a chin fell<br >away into the neck.<br > Well， Mrs. Cray， he said in a strange， sad voice， that s<br >the last. <br > The midwife， taller than Maddern and with iron-grey，<br >wiry hair and a strong， hatchet-like face looked at him with<br >eyes as sharp as gimlets; there was hostility in her voice.<br > [ don t care what you say， she stated. It s those pills. <br > "I simply don t understand it， Maddern said.<br > "I tell you， doctor， it s those pills. <br > She was much older than he， and in many ways old-<br >fashioned， although her methods and her habits at a<br >de.livery were immaculate in their hygiene. A first-class<br >midwife， she had often attended confinements on her own.<br >The doctor admired her professional skill and her unremit-<br >