Yet, then, I think of all you said to me,
and I feel you must decide. You must do what is best for
your future and your career; and I shall never blame you,
_whatever_ you think right. I wish I had known, or realized,
the whole truth about your mother when you were still here.
It was my stupidity.
"I have no claim--none--against what is best for you. Just
two words, Oliver!--and I think they _ought_ to be
'Good-bye.'
"Sir James Chide came after you left, and was most dear and
kind. To-day I have my father's letter--and one from my
mother--that she wrote for me--twenty years ago. I mustn't
write any more. My eyes are so tired.
"Your grateful DIANA."
He laid down the blurred note, and turned to the enclosure. Then he read
his mother's letter. And he had imagined, in his folly, that his
mother's refinement would at least make use of some other weapon than
the money! Why, it was _all_ money!--a blunderbuss of the crudest kind,
held at Diana's head in the crudest way. This is how the saints
behave--the people of delicacy--when it comes to a pinch! He saw his
mother stripped of all her pretensions, her spiritual airs, and for the
first time in his life--his life of unwilling subordination--he dared to
despise her.
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