With all her weakness and her sin, her mother-love
stood the supreme test. As she had been able to give up her Italian
friends when the boy was born, because, as she said, Nino was born a
gentleman and must not associate with them; now, when she was convinced
that he would be better without her, she was able to give him up,
although with a breaking heart. Many times she had been forced to
confess to herself that Nino's mother was not a lady like Mrs. Fenton
or Helen Greyson, or others of her husband's friends; and although she
had always comforted herself with the reflection that at least no boy
had a mother who loved him more than she did her son, the thought that
her child might be better without her had more than once forced itself
upon her mind. It was idle for Fenton to argue; Ninitta's decision had
passed beyond argument, and perhaps her understanding was, for the time
being, too benumbed by suffering clearly to follow her companion's
reasoning.
"At least," she said at last, utterly ignoring his earnest endeavor to
shake her resolution, "if you cannot let me have any money, you will
write a note for me to tell Mr. Herman that I am gone, and to say good-
by to the _bambino._"
"Good God, Ninitta! Are you mad?" Fenton cried, jumping up and coming
to confront her. "Why should you mix me up in this business? He knows
my writing, and think what he might suspect if I wrote such a note.
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