"Just so, mother," I said wearily. "Tell me what you wish, and I will do my best to obey you."
"Roger," she said in an altered tone, "you have had the reputation of being kind-hearted and generous. I know you have often thought me hard upon you; but if I have been so, it was only from the desire to make you gentle as well as generous."
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.