“Yes; speak the whole truth, though it crushes me!” sighed the unhappy woman; and he answered:
“I do not mean to be cruel to you, dear mother, I pity you, and I understand your terrible provocation for all you did, but I believe in my father’s innocence and his perfect nobility. He told me his full story in Washington, and I have believed in him, loved him, revered him ever since, and his death will be a blow to me only second to your own.”
“Then, Arthur, I am a miserable sinner. I have wrecked his life!” contritely.
“Then you must acknowledge your fault, and beg his forgiveness.”
“He has sworn that he will never forgive me as long as I live. Oh, my heart, what a cruel wretch I have been to him! And I loved him so! I do not merit his forgiveness.”
“But he shall grant it, mother. I will add my prayers to yours.”
“Oh, Arthur, shall we go to him now, my poor, wronged love?” weeping.
“Not now, dear mother, because he is exhausted, and needs rest. We must wait.”
“Oh, if he could know my shame and repentance! And how I have loved him always in spite of myself! Might it not comfort him, Arthur?”
“I will find out when he can see you, and tell you himself, mother, if you will be very patient, and let him rest awhile first, mother.”