You have
something to tell me."
The young man looked at her and turned away. "Yes, I
have. It isn't a death," he said, with a nervous laugh.
"You need not look in that way. It is--something
very different. I--I was married in this church
yesterday to Lisa Arpent."
Frances did not at first comprehend the great disaster
that bulked black across her whole life, but, woman-like,
grasped at a fragment of it.
"You were married and I was not there! Yesterday! My
boy was married and he forgot me!"
"Mother! Don't look like that! Here, sit down,"
grabbing her helplessly by the arms. "I didn't want to
hurt you. I brought you here to tell you quietly. Cry!
Why don't you cry if you're worried! Oh! I believe she's
dying!" he shouted, staring around the empty church.
She spoke at last.
"You were married and I couldn't say God bless you! You
forgot me! I never forgot you, George, for one minute
since you were born."
"Mother, what fool talk is that? I only didn't want a
scene. I kept away from Lisa for weeks so as not to vex
you. Forget you! I think I have been very considerate
of you under the circumstances. You have a dislike
to Lisa, a most groundless dislike----"
"Oh, what is Lisa? " said Frances haughtily. "It is that
you have turned away from me. She has nothing to do with
the relation between you and me. How can any woman come
between me and my son?" She held up her hands. "Why,
you are my boy, Georgy.
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