"
"Mother!" said Hesden earnestly, raising his head and gazing
reproachfully at her.
"Don't--don't, my son! I am trying--believe me, I am trying; but
it is so hard. Why should she give up all this for our sakes?"
"Not for ours mother--not for ours alone; for her own as well."
"Oh, my son, what does she know of family pride?"
"Mother," said he gravely, "she is prouder than we ever were.
Oh, I _know_ it,"--seeing the look of incredulity upon her
face;--"prouder than any Richards or Le Moyne that ever lived; only
it is a different kind of pride. She would _starve_, mother,"
he continued impetuously; "she would work her fingers to the bone
rather than touch one penny of that estate."
"Oh, why--why, Hesden, should she do that? Just to shield my father's
name?"
"Not alone for that," said Hesden. "Partly to show that she can
give you pride for pride, mother."
"Do you think so, Hesden?"
"I am sure of it."
"Will you promise me one thing?"
"Whatever you shall ask."
"Do not write to her, nor in any way communicate with her, except
at my request."
"As you wish."
CHAPTER LVI.
SOME OLD LETTERS.
I.
"RED WING, Saturday, Feb. 15, 1873.
"MISS MOLLIE AINSLIE:
"I avail myself of your kind permission to address you a letter
through Captain Pardee, to whom I will forward this to-morrow. I
would have written to you before, because I knew you must be anxious
to learn how things are at this place, where you labored so long;
but I was very busy--and, to tell you the truth, I felt somewhat hurt
that you should withhold from me for so long a time the knowledge
even of where you were.
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