"
"Valued him! Yes, you valued him as you would a war-horse, or a strong
tower, but you did not love him. He was not of your race, or breed. His
hands were hard with toil, his hair was rough, and his voice was harsh
with the night air. The breath of the labouring poor is noisome in the
nostrils of the rich. His garments smelt of industry, and his awkward
gait told tales of his humble trade. You did not love him: such as you
could not have loved a man like him. You have come here to bid me to
forget my son, and you think it easy for me to do so, because you and
his noble friends have forgotten him. You are welcome, Mademoiselle, but
you might have saved yourself the trouble."
"God forbid that I should ask you to forget him. I can never forget him
myself."
"Would that I could--would that I could! He left me that morning when
I bade him to stay, though I went down on my knees to ask it as a
favour. He was a stubborn self-willed man, and he went his own way. He
never passed another night under his mother's roof; he never again heard
his mother's blessing.
Pages:
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738