Before starting I sat
down to write a letter to my uncle. On hearing of my movements, my
mother came to me in great agitation. In her eyes there was that
haggard expression which I thought I understood. Already she had
begun to feel that she and she alone was responsible for whatsoever
calamities might fall upon the helpless deserted girl she had sent
away. Already she had begun to feel the pangs of that remorse which
afterwards stung her so cruelly that not all Winnie's woes, nor all
mine, were so dire as hers. There are some natures that feel
themselves responsible for all the unforeseen, as well as for all the
foreseen, consequences of their acts. My mother was one of these. I
rose as she entered, offered her a seat, and then sat down again.
She inquired whither I was going.
'To North Wales,' I said.
She stood aghast. But she now understood that grief had made me a
man.
'You are going,' said she, 'after the daughter of the scoundrel who
desecrated your father's tomb?'
'I am going after the young lady whom I intend to marry.
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