“Raymond,” she said, soothingly, “won't you be good for me, darlin'—for your own mother, my poor helpless boy? Won't you be good for me?”
“I will,” said he, in a more placid voice.
“And you will not curse anybody any more?”
“No, mother, no.”
“And won't you bless Mr. M'Clutchy, my dear child?”
“There's a fig for him,” he replied—there's a fig for him. Now!”
“But you didn't bless him, my darlin'—you didn't bless him yet.”
As she spoke the words, her eye caught! his, and she perceived that it began to gleam and kindle.
“Well no,” said she hastily; “no, I won't ask you; only hould your tongue—say no more.”
She again patted his cheek tenderly, and the fiery light which began to burn in his eye, died gradually away, and no other expression remained in it but the habitual one of innocence and good-nature.