Mi madre, I beg this favor from you." He had risen, but he still held her hands, and he was weeping as innocent young men are not ashamed to weep.
If she had looked at him! Oh, if she had but once looked at his face, she could not have resisted its beauty, its sorrow, its imploration! But she would not look.

She drew her hands angrily away from him.

She turned her back upon her suppliant son and imperiously summoned Rachela.
"Good-by, mi madre." "Good-by, mi madre!" She would not turn to him, or answer him a word.
"Mi madre, here comes Rachela! Say 'God bless you, Juan.' It is my last word, sweet mother!" She neither moved nor spoke.

The next moment Rachela entered, and the wretched woman abandoned herself to her care with vehement sobs and complainings.
Jack was inexpressibly sorrowful.

He went into the garden, hoping in its silence and solitude to find some relief.