"
Nick recoiled. The fierceness of his anger seemed to go, leaving a more
dangerous humor.
"Then I have been blessed with parents," he said.
At that she swayed, but when I would have caught her she motioned me away
and turned to Antoinette. Twice Mrs. Temple tried to speak.
"I was going away to-night," she said at length, "and you would never
have seen or heard of me more. My nephew David--Mr. Ritchie--whom I
treated cruelly as a boy, had pity on me. He is a good man, and he was
to have taken me away--I do not attempt to defend myself, my dear, but
I pray that you, who have so much charity, will some day think a little
kindly of one who has sinned deeply, of one who will love and bless you
and yours to her dying day."
She faltered, and Nick would have spoken had not Antoinette herself
stayed him with a gesture.
"I wish--my son to know the little there is on my side. It is not much.
Yet God may not spare him the sorrow that brings pity. I--I loved Harry
Riddle as a girl. My father was ruined, and I was forced into marriage
with John Temple for his possessions. He was selfish, overbearing,
cruel--unfaithful. During the years I lived with him he never once spoke
kindly to me. I, too, grew wicked and selfish and heedless. My head was
turned by admiration. Mr. Temple escaped to England in a man-of-war; he
left me without a line of warning, of farewell.
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