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Yonge, Charlotte Mary, 1823-1901

"My Young Alcides"


Smith haggled, lamented, and pretended to hesitate, but accepted the
terms at last, and then showed considerable haste in setting the
party off on their journey before his son should come home, fearing,
perhaps, some deadly deed if Dick should discover what a prey the
poor woman had concealed from him, while she was within his reach;
and as the worth of the apples was estimated at about twenty pounds
beyond the debt, Harold paid this to him at once, and they left him
in the meek, plausible, tearful stage of intoxication, piteously
taking leave of his wife as if she were the very darling of his
heart, and making fine speeches about his resolution to consign her
to her son for the sake of her health. So contemptible had the poor
creature become, that Harold found it easier to pity than to hate
him.
Besides, Harold had little thought then to spare from the eager
filial and maternal affection that had been in abeyance all the years
since poor Alice's unhappy marriage. For a little while the mother
and son were all in all to each other. The much-enduring woman, used
to neglected physical suffering, bore the journey apparently well,
when watched over and guarded with a tender kindness recalling that
of the husband of her youth; and Harold wrote to me from Dunedin full
of hope and gladness, aware that his mother could never be well
again, but trusting that we might yet give her such peace and rest as
she had never yet tasted.


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