" And
Mrs. Brobson looked round the handsomely-furnished apartment as if it had
been a hovel. "Frenchified ways don't suit me," she remarked. "If, when
they was furnishing their houses, they laid out more money upon water-jugs
and wash-hand basins, and less upon clocks and candelabras, it would do
them more credit; and if there was a chair to be had not covered with red
velvet, it would be a comfort. Luxury is luxury; but you may overdo it."
This complaint, murmured in a confidential tone, passed unnoticed by Daniel
Granger.
"Thursday morning, then, Mrs. Brobson, remember; the train leaves at seven.
You'll have to be very early."
"It can't be too early for me."
"I'm glad to hear that; I'll go in and take a look at the child--asleep, I
suppose?"
"Yes, sir; fast asleep."
He went into the dimly-lighted chamber, not expecting to see that kneeling
figure by the cot. He gave a little start at seeing it, and stood aloof, as
if there had been infection that way. Whatever he might feel or think, he
could scarcely order his wife away from her son's bedside. Her son! Yes,
there was the sting. However he might put her away from himself, he could
not utterly sever _that_ bond. He would do his best; but in the days to
come his boy might revolt against him, and elect to follow that guilty
mother.
He had loved her so fondly, he had trusted her so completely; and his anger
against her was so much the stronger because of this.
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