There was no warning signal of disloyalty in his face to set others on their guard.

His mother looked up at him tenderly.
"Always a good son, the best of sons, Roland," she replied, "and a good husband, and a good father.

Only one little fault in my good son: too spendthrift, too lavish.

You are not a fine, rich lord, with large lands, and much, very much money, my boy.

I do my best in the house; but women can only save pennies, while men fling about pounds." "But you love me with all my faults, mother ?" he said.
"As my own soul," she answered.
There was a profound solemnity in her voice and look, which penetrated to his very heart.