With an oath he sprang to seize the strange jewel from her; but quickly shutting the several lids, she hid it in her bosom.
“Oh, Heaven!” he exclaimed, “you are, you must be Rose!”
“You acknowledge me, then, at last!” she cried, with a wave of hope in her voice. “Oh, bless you for Ralph’s sake. Do not harden your heart again, for my life has been a desolate waste. My name was a misnomer, for nothing but thorns and briers have grown along my life-path. Say, my brother, speak, and tell me that I have not come to plead in vain—that you will give me back my place in your heart and home, and, I promise you, no servant ever was more faithful and devoted than I will prove, if you will but lift me out of the depths of my present woe.”
Vain, useless pleading! Hearts of stone do not yield to a woman’s tears.
With a bitter oath he spurned her from him.
“No, you shameless wretch!” he exclaimed. “Get you gone from my sight, for I swear, by all that’s sacred, that you shall never cross my threshold. My house shall burn to ashes before it shall be polluted by your vile presence!”
She bent her head upon her hands in silent anguish for a moment. Her heart was crushed anew within her as its returning affection was thus outraged. All hope died within her bosom. An outcast she had been for many long and weary years, and an outcast she must remain.
The squire smiled grimly. It pleased him well to see her writhing in her agony at his feet, for he deemed the conquest now would be an easy one.
But can a mother forget her young?
Never!