None of her
favourite manoeuvres were so easily adopted in her usual seat, the
armchair on the right hand side of the fireplace, and so well did
her son know from his mother's tone that this was going to be a sofa
conversation that he took his place like a lamb as soon as she began
to speak and before she could reach the sofa herself.
"My dearest boy," began his mother, taking hold of his hand and
placing it within her own, "promise me never to be afraid either of
your dear papa or of me; promise me this, my dear, as you love me,
promise it to me," and she kissed him again and again and stroked
his hair. But with her other hand she still kept hold of his; she
had got him and she meant to keep him.
The lad hung down his head and promised. What else could he do?
"You know there is no one, dear, dear Ernest, who loves you so
much as your papa and I do; no one who watches so carefully over
your interests or who is so anxious to enter into all your little joys
and troubles as we are; but, my dearest boy, it grieves me to think
sometimes that you have not that perfect love for and confidence in us
which you ought to have. You know, my darling, that it would be as
much our pleasure as our duty to watch over the development of your
moral and spiritual nature, but alas! you will not let us see your
moral and spiritual nature.
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