I love her, mother," added he, with a tearful tenderness that ought to have reached a woman's heart; then flushing, trembling, and inspired, he burst out, "And I wish I was a sculptor and a poet too, that Christie might live in stone and verse, as well as colors, and all who love an art might say, 'This woman cannot die, Charles Gatty loved her.'" He looked in her face; he could not believe any creature could be insensible to his love, and persist to rob him of it.
The old woman paused, to let his eloquence evaporate.
The pause chilled him; then gently and slowly, but emphatically, she spoke to him thus: "Who has kept you on her small means ever since you were ten years and seven months old ?" "You should know, mother, dear mother." "Answer me, Charles." "My mother." "Who has pinched herself, in every earthly thing, to make you an immortal painter, and, above all, a gentleman ?" "My mother." "Who forgave you the little faults of youth, before you could ask pardon ?" "My mother! Oh, mother, I ask pardon now for all the trouble I ever gave the best, the dearest, the tenderest of mothers." "Who will go home to Newcastle, a broken-hearted woman, with the one hope gone that has kept her up in poverty and sorrow so many weary years, if this goes on ?" "Nobody, I hope." "Yes, Charles; your mother." "Oh, mother; you have been always my best friend." "And am this day." "Do not be my worst enemy now.

It is for me to obey you; but it is for you to think well before you drive me to despair." And the poor womanish heart leaned his head on the table, and began to sorrow over his hard fate.
Mrs.Gatty soothed him.

"It need not be done all in a moment.

It must be done kindly, but firmly.

I will give you as much time as you like." This bait took; the weak love to temporize.
It is doubtful whether he honestly intended to part with Christie Johnstone; but to pacify his mother he promised to begin and gradually untie the knot.
"My mother will go," whispered his deceitful heart, "and, when she is away, perhaps I shall find out that in spite of every effort I cannot resign my treasure." He gave a sort of half-promise for the sake of peace.
His mother instantly sent to the inn for her boxes.
"There is a room in this same house," said she, "I will take it; I will not hurry you, but until it is done, I stay here, if it is a twelvemonth about." He turned pale.
"And now hear the good news I have brought you from Newcastle." Oh! these little iron wills, how is a great artist to fight three hundred and sixty-five days against such an antagonist?
Every day saw a repetition of these dialogues, in which genius made gallant bursts into the air, and strong, hard sense caught him on his descent, and dabbed glue on his gauzy wings.
Old age and youth see life so differently.