" "You may see the marks on the child yourself, if you choose, Sir," urged the widow. "I used to cry myself to sleep, Hoddy, I was so forlorn and lonely. Yes, I think we have thoroughly thrashed that one out. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. Enschede, to have starved his heart as well as Ruth's because, having laid a curse, he knew not how to turn aside from it! How easily he might have forgotten the unworthy mother in the love of the child! And this day to hear her voice lifted in a quality of anathema. And you’d better have her fetch in some food for the missie, an’ all.
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