If I were to begin to abuse him, perhaps I should get you to praise him.' 'Oh, mamma, I did not abuse him.' 'Something like it, my dear, when you said he was spoony.' 'Oh, mamma, I would not abuse him for worlds--I know how good he is, I know how you love him, but, but---' and Gertrude, though very little given to sobbing moods, burst into tears.
'Come here, Gertrude; come here, my child,' said Mrs.Woodward, now moved more for her daughter than for her favourite; 'what is it?
what makes you cry?
I did not really mean that you abused poor Harry.' Gertrude got up from her chair, knelt at her mother's feet, and hid her face in her mother's lap.

'Oh, mamma,' she said, with a half-smothered voice, 'I know what you mean; I know what you wish; but--but--but, oh, mamma, you must not--must not, must not think of it any more.' 'Then may God help him!' said Mrs.Woodward, gently caressing her daughter, who was still sobbing with her face buried in her mother's lap.

'May God Almighty lighten the blow to him! But oh, Gertrude, I had hoped, I had so hoped----' 'Oh, mamma, don't, pray don't,' and Gertrude sobbed as though she were going into hysterics.
'No, my child, I will not say another word.

Dear as he is to me, you are and must be ten times dearer.

There, Gertrude, it is over now; over at least between us.