Part 23 (2/2)

I looked upon her in surprise, and in spite of my sorrow my heart bounded with hope. Perhaps my father's death had destroyed all hard feelings, and now I should know the meaning of a mother's love.

”Mother,” I said, ”I have been rough and harsh. I'll try to be a better son, and perhaps we may be happy in the future.”

A sharp spasm, as if of pain, crossed her face, but she spoke naturally.

”It may be,” she went on, ”that what I shall say may hurt you, but I only want to be a kind, loving mother.”

My heart warmed more than ever. ”I am sure that is your desire, mother,” I said.

She was silent for a minute, and again I saw the look of of pain which crossed her face.

”Roger,” she burst out, ”what I have to say nearly kills me,” and she burst into a flood of tears.

I went to her side and soothed her.

”Don't grieve, mother,” I said, ”and don't say anything that will give you pain.”

”No, no, it's not that,” she said, and then cried out, ”I can't tell him, I can't.”

”Don't, mother,” I cried. ”Wait until you are stronger, and then tell me. These few days have been terrible for you. I have been thinking too much about myself. I have been remembering that I have lost my father, but have forgotten that you have lost your husband. I know it's terrible, mother, but dear father is happy now, and Wilfred and I will take care of you.”

At the mention of Wilfred's name her face changed. A look of determination came upon her face, and her hands clenched nervously.

”Roger,” she said, ”I am calm now, and hard as it is to tell you I will do so.”

I sat down before her, wondering what was coming.

”You remember the night of your--your father's--death?”

”Yes, mother.”

”He said it was his wish, and the wish of Mr. Morton that you should wed Ruth.”

”Yes,” I said, my heart beating violently.

”Roger, that must never be!”

”Why?”

I spoke harshly, for my heart became hard as a stone, and yet it seemed to grow too big for my bosom.

”Because,” she answered, her voice trembling as she did so, ”she loathes, shudders at the thought of marrying you.”

”How dare you say this?” I cried angrily, and yet I knew her words were true. Ruth's face had told me the same story only that very evening.

”If you wish to drive her mad, kill her, murder her!” went on my mother, ”ask her to do as her father wishes.”

”What is there in me to drive her mad, or to murder her?” I cried. ”I have always been kind to her.”

<script>