She never forgot one morning that broke sunny enough for her, but ended in desolation more bitter to endure than death.
Mrs. Garner and herself were seated at the breakfast table, when Jack entered and took his seat opposite Dorothy. He bent his fair, handsome head, and kissed his mother as he passed her, and bowed courteously to "Mrs. Brown."
Both noticed that his fair, handsome face was very pale, and his right hand looked bruised. Mrs. Garner spoke of it at once.
"What is the matter—what has happened, Jack, my boy?" she asked, earnestly. "What does your agitation mean? You must tell me at once. Your—your appearance alarms me more than I can tell you."
He tried to laugh the matter off, but his mother would not be persuaded to change the subject.
"Well, then, if you must know, I will tell you when—we—are—alone," he said, a little unsteadily.
"You need not mind Mrs. Brown," she answered, quickly. "I do not hesitate speaking before her on any topic."
Dorothy rose hurriedly to her feet.
"I—I have finished my breakfast," she said, in the low tone she had assumed, and which so charmed every one; "and if you will excuse me, I shall be grateful."
Jack bowed courteously; but Mrs. Garner held out a fluttering hand to stay her steps.