It was a sad knowledge he must inherit.

How would she ever be able to tell him that the father who had given him life, and whose name he bore, was a criminal; a convict if he was arrested and brought to judgment; an outlaw and an exile if he made good his escape?
Roland had never been as dear to her as Felix was.

She was one of those women who love more deeply and tenderly as mothers than as wives.

To see that bright, fond face of his clouded with disgrace would be a ceaseless torment to her.

There would be no suffering to compare with it.
"But you will tell me all about it some day, mother," urged the boy.
"If I ever tell you," she answered, "it will be when you are a man, and can understand the whole truth.