"You have come to say 'yes,' my boy," said Mrs. Seabright, rising to meet her son.
The young man had really come to say "no," but that firm, unyielding look in his mother's eyes halted him. Instead of the determined stand which he had resolved to take, in the presence of his mother's imperious will, all he could say was, "Mother, I—I—I—had hoped otherwise."
His mother shook her head and looked him directly in the eyes. She wanted him to see the determination written in her own eyes.
He saw and collapsed. "I will go, mother," said he. "Be seated, mother," he requested.
Mrs. Seabright, directing a look of inquiry at her son, sat down.
He now dropped on his knees and rested his head upon her lap. "Mother, say to me the prayer that you taught me in my childhood—days when you were not this way. Lead me back there once more, for something within tells me that life is never more to be life to me."
Mrs. Seabright did not at all relish the sentimental turn of her son's mind, but she began in as tender tones as she could summon:
"Now I lay me down to sleep."
"Now I lay me down to sleep," repeated the young man.
"I pray the Lord my soul to keep," his mother continued.