"Go on, darling. You have thought of late——"
"That you were getting weary of your invalid, and regretting your promise."
"How could you ever think that of me?"
"There. I love to see those gray eyes deepen and flash through generous tears. I will take that back, for I see it is not true."
"Have I ever been forgetful of you?"
"No, no, no. If ever woman had the heart of an angel of mercy, you have one, my Perdita. It was not that you missed one atom of your wonderful care for me, but lately you have been reserved. You have denied me your hand so often to help me back to myself, or your bosom when my head ached; and the sweet words of endearment rarely come from you, except when once or twice you have thought I was sleeping."
"You are getting so well and strong that you do not require such excessive tenderness. It was only while you were helpless as a child that I felt for you as if you were one."
"You are but a child yourself, my poor, fragile darling; and yet, child as you are, I do require your motherly care, your motherly words of love. I have had them once, and they were so heavenly sweet that I cannot do without them."
"I will be your mother, then, until you can do without me. I shall take care of my child until he is able to take care of himself."
"Little mother, why do you weep?"