Fair, my baby child, would it not have been
better--could it have been easier--had you told me.
Fair. (coming to her arms). I meant to tell you mother--but, oh!
I was afraid. The old days seemed so far away, and I so weak and
foolish! And then he went into the army and came down here in arms
against his people! The night you went to George, he asked me, and--I
told a lie! I said I did not love him. But to-night, with the wild
chance of saving Carter (she looks up into her mother's face and
smiles), I told the truth!
Mrs. S. (softly kissing her). And it was best. My heart's own
child! Your only happiness was there.
Char. (who has stood by the window listening). Best! What do we
know about things that are best? And love and truth--what do we know of
these? Are they not torn from us, trampled down, ground beneath our
feet? And happiness--is it for us? Ah! no, no. For, are not our hearts
crushed down in the cold black earth that covers those we love? What is
there in this life for us? We are grown old before our time. Ah! in
God's name, don't speak of love or happiness when it is such a mockery
to us and those we love!
[She sinks limply down upon the sofa, burying her face in her
hands.
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