Could he have guessed his brother's passion for Elinor Wildegrave, or
had he witnessed his despair on that memorable night that had made him
the happiest of men, he would frankly have forgiven him the ruin he had
wrought.
A strong mind, when it comprehends the worst, rouses up all its latent
energies to combat with, and triumph over, its misfortunes. Algernon was
an amiable man, a man of warm passions and generous impulses, but he was
a weak man. His indignation found vent in sighs and tears, when he
should have been up and doing.
A light step rustled among the underwood--ashamed of his weakness he
sprang to his feet, and saw before him, not the slight form of Elinor
Wildegrave, into which belief busy fancy had cheated him, but the
drooping figure and mild face of his mother, shrouded in the gloomy
garments of her recent widowhood. With pale cheeks and eyelids swollen
with tears, she had followed her injured son to his lonely hiding-place.
"Mother!" he cried, holding out his arms to receive the poor weeper,
"dear mother! what have I done to be thus treated?"
A convulsive spasm choked his utterance; and as she seated herself
beside him on the grass, his head sunk upon her lap, as in other years,
and the proud man's spirit was humbled and subdued like that of a little
child.
"Your father, Algernon, has died, committing an act of injustice, but
for your mother's sake you must forgive him.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55