Had
he not been sure that life with him was gone, he never would have spoken
of his love. He was a weak, foolish man. Very weak in spite of all his
courage; very weak and very foolish--very weak and very foolish."
She was talking more to herself than to Agatha, as she thus spoke of her
son's character, and for a minute or two she continued in the same
strain, speaking of him in a way that showed that every little action,
every wish of his, had been to her a subject of thought and anxiety; and
that she took a strange pride in those very qualities for which she
blamed him.
"And did you come to me on purpose to tell me this, Mademoiselle?" she
said after a while.
"I came to talk to you about your son, and to offer you, for his sake,
the affection of a daughter."
"And when he told you that he loved you, what answer did you make him?
tell me: did you comfort him; did you say one word to make him happy?
I know, from your face, that you had not the heart to rebuke a dying
man."
"Rebuke him! How could I have rebuked him? though I had never owned it
to myself I now feel that I had loved him before he had ever spoken to
me of love.
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