She placed her hands on his head, and he knelt, and she said she forgave him all, and bid him die like a man." If a capable artist should make a picture of it, it would be full of dignity and solemnity and pathos; and it could touch you.

You would imagine it to be anything but what it was.

There is reverence there, and tenderness, and gratefulness, and compassion, and resignation, and fortitude, and self-respect--and no sense of disgrace, no thought of dishonor.

Everything is there that goes to make a noble parting, and give it a moving grace and beauty and dignity.

And yet one of these people is a Thug and the other a mother of Thugs! The incongruities of our human nature seem to reach their limit here.
I wish to make note of one curious thing while I think of it.