A mother's love for her only son is a very sacred and compelling
thing. Tom had not been a comfort or support to his parents; he was
likely, if he remained, to be a source of endless trouble to his
mother during her reign at the old house; yet none the less did it
seem to her a heart-breaking thing to have to part from him.
The light about them grew more dim as the fire burned with a steady
glow instead of with dancing flames. Rachel had lighted a lamp, yet
it did little to illumine the great room. The sick man lay as
though asleep.
Presently the mother spoke in a whisper to her daughter.
"Fetch Tom," she said.
Rachel knew what that meant, and her heart beat to suffocation. She
crept from the room, and returned with her brother, and they stood
side by side at one side of the bed, whilst their mother knelt at
the other.
Once the dying man opened his eyes, and looked from one to another
of those about him, though whether he saw them they did not know.
Then his eyes closed, he gave a sigh, and turned upon his pillows.
The Squire of Gablehurst had passed to his last account.
CHAPTER II. OUT INTO THE WORLD.
"You had better let me go, mother. I shall do no good here."
Tom stood before his mother with a flush upon his handsome face--a
flush that was one partly of shame, partly of anger, with a dash of
excitement and eagerness thrown in.
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