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Brame, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Monica), 1836-1884

"Dora Thorne"

Hardly knowing whither he
went, Lord Earle entered, and it was closed behind him. His
eyes, dimmed with tears, saw a tall, stately lady, who advanced
to meet him with open arms.
The face he remembered so fair and calm bore deep marks of
sorrow; the proud, tender eyes were shadowed; the glossy hair was
threaded with silver; but it was his mother's voice that cried to
him, "My son, my son, thank Heaven you have returned!"
He never remembered how long his mother held him clasped in her
arms. Earth has no love like a mother's love--none so tender,
so true, so full of sweet wisdom, so replete with pity and
pardon. It was her own son whom Lady Earle held in her arms.
She forgot that he was a man who had incurred just displeasure.
He was her boy, her own treasure, and so it was that her words of
greeting were all of loving welcome.
"How changed you are," she said, drawing him nearer to the fast-
fading light. "Your face is quite bronzed, and you look so many
years older--so sad, so worn! Oh, Ronald, I must teach you to
grow young and happy again!"
He sighed deeply, and his mother's heart grew sad as she watched
his restless face.


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