Abbie still pressed her hands to her head, and stared before her without

speaking.

"You were false to your marriage vows; after that, you neglected your

husband no less than he you; you never tried to make yourself lovable to

him; you were the only wronged one! you could do no wrong yourself! At

last you had a son."

She raised her eyes, which, during the last few minutes had become

bloodshot, and fixed them fearfully upon the young man's face, as he

continued: "You loved him, as most females do love their young, and yet not so

generously as most. It was not as his father's child, but only as your

own, that he was dear to you; he was your child, a part of yourself,

and you loved him only because you loved yourself.

"When he was still a baby you left your husband's house, and thereby, if

justice were done, forfeited the recognition of good women, and pure

society; but you took great credit to yourself because you left your son

and your money behind you. Was it nothing in the balance, then, the

scandal, worse than any poverty, which the recovery of your property

would have caused? Nothing but self-sacrifice, to leave a sickly child

to all the advantages that wealth could give it? Well, a month

afterward, in spite of wealth, your son died."

At this announcement, Abbie's convulsive strength, which had thus far

served to keep her erect and motionless, exhaled itself in a long groan,

and left her placid and nerveless. Seeing her about to fall, Bressant

put forth his hands and grasped her arms below the shoulder, holding her

thus while he went on. Her eyes were closed and her head fell forward on

her bosom; but, so blinded was the young man by the remorseless passion

which had gradually been working up within him, he failed to perceive

that the old woman's ears were no longer sensible to his voice, nor her

heart sensitive to his words.

"He died, and I was younger than he, but stronger, and more like my

father. I was put in his place, and was called by his name. I grew up

proud of what I thought my aristocratic birth! I resolved to become the

most famous of mankind, and I found an angel and was going to marry her.

But the evil began to come with the good: it began long ago, and in many

ways, and I tried to overcome it, or provide against it, one way or

another. You benevolent people had led me into a battle-field, unarmed,

and then left me to fight my way through; and I should have done it,

too, but at the last I had myself to fight against, and then I gave

in. Why, I had been dead and buried more than twenty years--why don't

you laugh at that?--and had been imposed upon all that time by this

miserable nameless outcast, myself! whose father's name was Adultery and

his mother's Sin. That was a parentage to be proud of, wasn't it? And

yet, I swear before God, I'm better contented it should be so, than to

be the son of an honest marriage, with such a woman as you for my

mother."




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