"Remember, when you
see me lying dead, that death itself was less bitter than the
hour in which I learned that you had deceived me."
"Mother," cried the unhappy youth, "plead for me!"
"It is useless," replied his father; "your choice has been made
deliberately. I am not cruel. If you write to me I shall return
your letters unopened. I shall refuse to see or hear from you,
or to allow you to come near Earlescourt; but you can write to
your mother--I do not forbid that. She can see you under any
roof save mine. Now, farewell; the sunshine, the hope, the
happiness of my life go with you, but I shall keep my word. See
my solicitor, Mr. Burt, about your money, and he will arrange
everything in my place."
"Father," cried Ronald, with tears in his eyes, "say one kind
word, touch my hand once again!"
"No," said Lord Earle, turning from the outstretched hand; "that
is not the hand of an honorable man; I can not hold it in my
own."
Then Ronald bent down to kiss his mother; her face was white and
still; she was not conscious of his tears or his passionate
pleading. Lord Earle raised her face.
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