When he spoke of his mother, and she saw the quivering lips he vainly tried to still, tears filled her eyes.
"Where shall you go," she asked, "and what shall you do ?" "I shall go to my wife at once," he replied, "and take her abroad.

Do not look so pained and grieved for me, Miss Charteris I must do the best I can.

If my income will not support me, I must work; a few months' study will make me a tolerable artist.

Do not forget my mother, Valentine, and bid me 'Godspeed.'" Her heart yearned for him--so young, so simple, so brave.

She longed to tell him how much she admired him--how she wanted to help him, and would be his friend while she lived.