"Clarissa—Clarissa—Awake."
Slowly her eyes opened. Her face pictured happiness and contentment as she saw William's smiling welcome; who would have believed his proud, haughty head could have bowed so humbly as it did when he saw the bright, glad gleam in her eyes? He stooped to kiss her as though she was just awakening from a natural sleep. As his arms encircled her, her own entwined themselves once more around his neck, and with a happy sigh she gave him kiss for kiss.
Augustus was, for the time, forgotten by both of them, but his eyes and ears were active; for a time, he remained silent, then a tempest of jealousy swept over him. He had ever been first in his mother's thoughts; now he was forgotten for a stranger. His spirit had not been disciplined to expect only his proper share of any one's attention, for from the earliest time in his recollection, he had been the principal object of attention in his home.
His very infirmity and physical weakness spared him criticisms of even the most wholesome nature; one and all around him had known but one object in life—to please him. He was totally unaccustomed to being overlooked in this manner, and his was not a nature to endure this state of things.
With all the might of his uncultivated and ungoverned will, he hated this man who was engrossing his mother's attention and love. He raised himself erect by the help of his hands, and rage nearly choked him as he said—"Mamma!"
Was there magic in his voice? If not, why did she draw so coldly and quickly from William's grasp?
"Mamma,—send that man away. I hate him."
"Yes, dear. Do not get nervous, Augustus. There—Mamma's little man is not angry—"
"Mamma—I hate him. Send him home. He is not my father, is he? You told me my father was everything noble—everything I loved—I hate that man—I hate him. Mamma, I will not have him for a father—I will not—"
"Hush, dear."