"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.