I do not want to reproach you with benefits which he felt pleasure in conferring.

But surely some feeling of gratitude is due from one whom he loved for so many years as a son; whom I am certain he still loves; whom, if he could once see, would be as dear to him as ever.' "'Could I feel that his anger was just, there is no concession, however great, Miss Moncton, that I would hesitate to make: I love and revere Sir Alexander, but he has taken up idle prejudices against me, and I am too proud--obstinate, if you will--to ask his forgiveness for what I never can look upon as a fault.' "'One would think, Philip, that you were a Moncton, so hard and obdurate are their hearts,' said Margaret, weeping afresh.

'How gladly would I be the peacemaker, and reconcile you to each other, but you love strife for its own sake--are too proud to acknowledge an error.
Philip,' she cried, passionately, 'do you remember my mother ?' "She had struck a chord which always vibrated intensely in my heart.
'How can I ever forget her?
And yet, Miss Moncton, dear Miss Moncton, I do not wonder at your asking the question.' "As I said this tears rushed to my own eyes, as a thousand sad recollections crowded into my mind.

The mournful chamber--the bed of death--the calm, sweet face of the expiring saint; and her last solemn injunction, for me to look upon her grave when I came to be a man, and remember her who had loved me as a son.

Had I done this?
Oh, no! The world had obliterated her pure and holy image from my mind, and all her tenderness and love had been forgotten.
"I stood there before her daughter, whose mind was a perfect transcript of her own, a stricken, self-condemned creature, overcome by emotions which I struggled in vain to repress.
"Margaret perceived the advantage she had gained, and taking my passive hand led me from the room.
"Slowly we paced, up the marble staircase into the drawing-room, where we found Sir Alexander reading at a table.