Then he reproached himself vehemently for allowing his thoughts to dwell on such trifles at such a moment.
"Will you forgive me for going away the very day you come ?" said Lady Mary.
How quickly, how surprisingly, she recovered her spirits! She had looked so weary and sad as she came down the stairs an hour ago.

Now she was almost gay.

A feverish and unnatural gaiety, no doubt; but those flushed cheeks, and glittering blue eyes--how they restored the youthful loveliness of the face he had once thought the most beautiful he ever saw! "I am going to see the last of my boy.

You'll understand, won't you?
You were an only son too.

And your mother would have gone to the ends of the earth to look upon your face once more, wouldn't she?
Mothers are made like that." "Some mothers," said John; and he turned away his head.
"Not yours?
I'm sorry," said Lady Mary, simply.
"Oh, well--you know, she was a good deal--in the world," he said, repenting himself.
"I use to wish so much to live in the world too," said Lady Mary, dreamily; "but ever since I was fifteen I've lived in this out-of-the-way place." "Don't be too sorry for that," said John; "you don't know what a revelation this out-of-the-way place may be to a tired worker like me, who lives always amid the unlovely sights and sounds of a city." "Ah! but that's just it," she said quickly.