"Old-fashioned copy-books say, mother, that 'to be happy one must
be good.' I have not been good," he said with a slight smile,
"and I shall never be happy."
In the faint waning light, through which the snow gleamed
strangely, mother and son sat talking. Lady Earle told Ronald of
his father's death--of the last yearning cry when all the pent-
up love of years seemed to rush forth and overpower him with its
force. It was some comfort to him, after all, that his father's
last thoughts and last words had been of him.
His heart was strangely softened; a new hope came to him.
Granted that the best part of his life was wasted, he would do
his best with the remainder.
"And my children," he said, "my poor little girls! I will not
see them until I am calm and refreshed. I know they are well and
happy with you."
Then, taking advantage of his mood, Lady Helena said what she had
been longing to say.
"Ronald," she began, "I have had much to suffer. You will never
know how my heart has been torn between my husband and my son.
Let my last few years be spent in peace."
"They shall, mother," he said.
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