"Yes, dear, but when you are older you will know that all men are beasts."
"Mother!"
"Yes, all men who are worth while——"
"How can you say that," the daughter cried with scorn, "and remember my father and grandfather? No man passes the old Governor to-day without lifting his hat, and I've seen you sit for hours with my father's picture in your lap crying over it——"
"Yes, dear," was the sweet answer, "these hearts of ours play strange pranks with us sometimes. You must see Dan to-night and forgive. He will crawl on his hands and knees to your feet and beg it."
"I'll never see him or speak to him again!"
"You must—dear."
"Never!"
The mother sat down on the lounge and drew the quivering figure close. Her face was hidden from the daughter's view when she began to speak and so the death-like pallor was not noticed. The voice was held even by a firm will:
"I hoped God might let me go without my having to tell you what I must say now, dearest"—in spite of her effort there was a break and silence.