Phædra's face also changed. It was as if a thundercloud had suddenly crossed the sun, and darkened all the room. The mother spoke first, and her voice was deep and hollow, as she said:
"Valentine! Valentine! you have said that in ninety-nine days of a hundred you can govern your master. Oh, my son, pray God to give you grace on that hundredth day to govern yourself!"
"Mother! Mother! Why do you say that to me?" exclaimed the boy, with a shudder.
"I do not know why—or if I do, I dare not tell you. A heavy weight is on my heart; I cannot shake it off. You are going away soon! I must warn you now; I may not have another chance, or may not feel able to do it. Oh, Valentine, learn self-control, try to keep your temper always under. Ay! seek the grace of God; there is such a thing, though your poor mother has not got it, and only wishes she had. Seek it, Valentine—it is your best safety; in every time of trial and temptation, it is a steadfast support. I know it, though I haven't got it; I know it, because I've seen it in many others."
Valentine was looking at her with the most intense expression of countenance.
"Anger is a short madness, is it not, mother? So it was with me, at least, when I was a boy; and how those frenzies of passion, into which I would be thrown, used to terrify me when I came to my senses! I used to be haunted with a fear that, in some such mad and blind fury, I might——"
"Hush! oh, hush! Pray to God!" exclaimed Phædra, turning pale.
"Well, but of late years I have been able to control myself, and have also suffered less provocation."
"Ah, yes; less provocation."
"Well, mother, I will promise you, faithfully, at least, to exercise habitual self-control. As for your other subject of anxiety, be at rest. Oswald Waring has his fits of generosity, in which even his sensual love of his own comforts is forgotten. And I shall take advantage of one of those moods to procure our manumission—not that I am sure I shall leave him, even after that is obtained."