“Hush, child, hush!” cried the mother, rising, pale and trembling, from her knees; “you must become a good and virtuous girl, and never run away with a man. Forget what your bad father has told you; you know he hates me, and has told you all these falsehoods to make you do the same.”
“Mamma, can you swear that it is not true?”
“Yes, my child, I can swear it.”
“You did not run off with a gardener?”
“No, my child. Have I not told you that a virtuous girl never runs away?”
“You did not make papa unhappy, and, being his wife, love other men?”
“No, my daughter.”
“Mamma,” said the child, after a long pause, “can you give me your right hand, and swear you did not?”
Louise hesitated a moment; a cold shiver ran through her, she felt as if she was about to perjure herself; but as she looked into the beautiful face of her child, whose eyes were fixed on her with a strange expression, she overcame her unwillingness.
“Here is my hand—I swear that all your father told you is false!”