"Yes, my darling girl," said Mrs. Thompson tenderly. "And so do I. It's all summed up in that. We must do what's right and wise—not just what seems easy and delightful. There. There.... Use my handkerchief;" and in her turn she reminded Enid that the gentlemen would be with them at any minute.
"Mother, when you ask me to give him up, it's more than I can do."
"But would I ask you if I wasn't certain—as certain as I can be of anything in the world—that you could never be happy with him? You'd be risking a lifetime's regret."
"I am ready to take the risk. Don't come between us."
"Enid, my dearest—my own Enid, trust me—trust the mother who has never, never thwarted you till now. You know I'm not selfish—not greedy of money. Truly I have only worked for you.... And think—though I hate to say it—of the many—the many, many things I have given up for your sake. It wasn't difficult perhaps—because you were everything on earth to me. But any middle-aged woman who knew my life would tell you that I have made great sacrifices—and all for you."
"I know you have, mother. It's dreadful to think of how you have worked, year after year."
"Then can't you make this one sacrifice for me?"
"If it was anything else;" and Enid sniffed, and another tear or two began to trickle. "If it was anything else, I'd obey you implicitly—and know it was my duty."
"Why isn't it your duty now?"