eral months that I got home news. When
I first heard of him they had already been married. I was delighted
to find that they were very happy. They needed nothing that I could
give. When he died so suddenly I tried to comfort her, and all I had
was at her disposal, did she want it. She was a proud woman--though
not with me. She had come to understand that, though I seemed cold
and hard (and perhaps was so generally), I was not so to her. But
she would not have help of any kind. When I pressed her, she told me
that she had enough for your keep and education and her own
sustenance for the time she must still live; that your father and she
had agreed that you should be brought up to a healthy and strenuous
life rather than to one of luxury; and she thought that it would be
better for the development of your character that you should learn to
be self-reliant and to be content with what your dear father had left
you. She had always been a wise and thoughtful girl, and now all her
wisdom and thought were for you, your father's and her child. When
she spoke of you and your future, she said many things which I
thought memorable. One of them I remember to this day. It was
apropos of my saying that there is a danger of its own kind in
extreme poverty. A young man might know too much want. She answered
me: "True! That is so! But there is a danger that overrides it;"
and after a time went on:

"It is better not to know wants than not to know want!" I tell you,
boy, that is a great truth, and I hope you will remember it for
yourself as well as a part of the wisdom of your mother. And here
let me say something else which is a sort of corollary of that wise
utterance:

I dare say you thought me very hard and unsympathetic that time I
would not, as one of your trustees, agree to your transferring your
little fortune to Miss MacKelpie. I dare say you bear a grudge
towards me about it up to this day. Well, if you have any of that
remaining, put it aside when you know the truth. That request of
yours was an unspeakable delight to me. It was like your mother
coming back from the dead. That little letter of yours made me wish
for the first time that I had a son--and that he should be like you.
I fell into a sort of reverie, thinking if I were yet too old to
marry, so that a so