But no responsive
greeting met the impetuous child, the woman stared at her with a
wild hazy stare as if to inquire, Who are you? What do you mean by
these extravagant caresses?
But if she failed to recognize her child she did not fail to
recognize me, and by some strange association of ideas she seemed to
wander in thought back to her past life, and the hot blood mounted
to her temples. When she became calmer I explained to her how we had
come there, and the object of our visit. She was touched at the
proofs of her daughter's affection, and the hot tears rolled rapidly
down her furrowed cheek, but she steadily refused to leave the
institution. In vain the poor girl pleaded, and Mr. Hartley and
myself joined in our entreaties that she would accompany her
daughter and her husband. Finding all our arguments of no avail I
advised Mr. Hartley to let the poor creature have her way till the
reality of the situation had come home to her, recommending him to
allow his wife to call frequently at the Convent to see her mother.
This advice the indulgent husband acted upon, and day after day
Beatrice would go and sit for hours conversing with her parent,
sometimes obtaining permission to take her for a walk or a drive,
and secretly longing, though never expressing it in words, that her
mother would accompany her back to her home in the South.
Pages:
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172