“It is gone—she stole it, she has pawned my soul.”
The young man came back to the bed in great distress. He knelt by her side, and strove to soothe the despair that had evidently fallen upon her.
“Oh, mother, strive to compose yourself; lift up your heart to God. It needs no crucifix. He is close by, even here.”
The old woman started, and her wild eyes wandered fearfully around the room.
“Pray to him, mother.”
“No, it is lost, I have sold his Son—no, no.”
“Mother, is there nothing that you wish to say? My brother George—have you no word for him?”
“Hush, hush! he will take your portion. He married. He wished to rob you. Don’t speak to me of Elsie Ford’s son, or of his son either. Let them alone, and you shall be rolling in gold, rolling, rolling, like your mother!”
The young man bent down and listened eagerly to her words.
“Did my brother marry Catharine Lacy, then, with your knowledge?”