In her gratification at prospects so far
beyond any she had a right to expect for her child, she had taken
less note of this successful man's defects. Peculiarities of
conversation and manner which had seemed to bespeak a soul far
from confident in its hopes, resolved themselves into the uneasy
moods of a man who had a home he never visited, a father he never
saw.
But had she been really justified in this easy view of things? If
the break between his father and himself was the result of nothing
deeper than a difference of temperament, tastes or even opinions,
why should he have shrunk with such morbid distaste from all
allusions to that father? Was it natural? She may have looked upon
it as being so in the heyday of her hopes and when she had a
secret herself to hide, but could she so degrade her judgment now?
And what of his conduct towards Reuther? Had that been all her
mother heart could ask of a man of his seemingly high instincts?
She had assured his father in her first memorable interview with
him that it had been perfectly honourable and above all reproach.
And so it had been as far as mere words went. But words are not
all; it is the tender look, the manly bearing, the tone which
springs from the heart which tells in great crises; and these had
all been lacking. Generous as he attempted to show himself, there
was nothing in his bearing to match that of Reuther as she took
her quiet leave of him and entered upon a fate so much bitterer
for her than for him.
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