judgment of those
older than yourself, who have only your interests at heart."

A sob from the child interrupted her.

"Then you, too, send me away!"

The mother snatched him to her heart, and kissed him passionately. "I
send you away, my darling! You know that if the matter rested with
me, you should never leave me; but, my child, we must both of us be
reasonable, and think a little of the future, which is dreary enough for
us." And then Charlotte hesitatingly continued, "You know, dear, you are
very young, and there are many things you cannot understand. Some day,
when you are older, I will tell you the secret of your birth. It is an
absolute romance: some day you shall learn your father's name. But now
all that is necessary for you to understand is, that we have not a penny
in the world, and are absolutely dependent on--D'Argenton." This name
the poor woman uttered with shame and hesitation, accompanied, at the
same time, with a touching look of appeal to her son. "I cannot," she
continued, "ask him to do anything more for us; he has already done so
much. Besides, he is not rich. What am I to do between you both? Ah, if
I could only go in your place to Indret and earn my bread! And yet
you would refuse an opening that gives you a certainty of earning your
livelihood, and of becoming your own master."

By the sparkle in her boy's eyes the mother saw that these words had
struck home, and in a caressing tone she continued, "Do this for me,
Jack; do this for your mother. The time may come when I shall have to
look to you as my sole support." Did she really believe her own words?
Was it a presentiment, one of those momentary flashes of light that
illuminate the future's dark horizon? or had she simply talked for
effect?

At all events, she could have found no better way to conquer this
generous nature. The effect was instantaneous. The idea that his mother
some day would lean on him suddenly decided him to yield at once. He
looked her straight in the eyes. "Promise me that you will never be
ashamed of me when my hands are black, and that you will always love
me."

She covered her boy with kisses, concealing in this way her trouble and
remorse, for from this time henceforward the unhappy woman was a prey to
remorse, and never thought of her child without an agonized contraction
of the heart.

But he, supposing that her embarrassment came from anxiety, and possibly
from shame, tore himself away, and ran toward the