Have I
not been a mother to you always?" she asked, appealingly,
imploringly: "I love you as I love Duncan, and it cuts me to the
heart to grieve you."
"Has Duncan given you an answer?"
"Yes, Rosalie."
"And it--?"
"He has trusted to his mother!" she said, almost proudly.
"Rather than me," quickly interrupted Rosalie.
"Rather than do that which is wrong; which might hereafter prove the
misery of you both, my child."
"Where is he? Why does he not come himself to tell me this? If the
thing is really true, _his_ lips should have spoken it, and not
another's."
"Oh! Rosalie, he could not do it. I believe his heart is broken. Do
not look so upon me. Is it not enough that I bitterly regret, that I
shall always deplore, having not foreseen the result of your
companionship? Say only that you do believe I have striven to do the
best for you always, as far as I knew how. I implore you, _say it_."
"Heaven knows I believe it, mother. When will Duncan come home
again?"
"Monday; not before."
When Monday morning came, on the desk in Rosalie's room this letter
was found:--
"I cannot leave you for ever, Duncan; I cannot go from your
protecting care, mother, without saying all that is in my heart.
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