The old woman was much disturbed, and wept.
"I have been thinking of late, Master Godfrey," she said, "that your father's heart is made of that kind of stone which Hell is paved with, only with the good intentions left out--it's that hard.

Here you are come back as fine a young man as a body can wish to see, of whom his begetter might well be proud, though, for the matter of that, there is precious little of him in you--and he shuts the door in your face just because you won't be a parson and have come into fortune--that's what rankles.

I say that your mother, if she was a fool when she married him, was a wise woman when she died.

Parson or not, he will never go where she is.

Well, it's sad, but you'll be well out of this cold house, where there's so much praying but not a spark of love." "I think so," said Godfrey with a sigh.
"I think so, too, for myself, I mean.