Nay, mother, nay. You shall never blame father on my behalf.
MRS. BARLOW. Don't trouble--he is blameless--I, a hulking, half-
demented woman, I am GLAD when you blame me. But don't blame me when
I tell you to fight. Don't do that, or you will regret it when you
must die. Ah, your father was stiff and proud enough before men of
better rank than himself. He was overbearing enough with his equals
and his betters. But he humbled himself before the poor, he made me
ashamed. He must hear it--he must hear it! Better he should hear it
than die coddling himself with peace. His humility, and my pride,
they have made a nice ruin of each other. Yet he is the man I wanted
to marry--he is the man I would marry again. But never, never again
would I give way before his goodness. Gerald, if you must be true to
your father, be true to me as well. Don't set me down at nothing
because I haven't a humble case.
GERALD. No, mother--no, dear mother. You see, dear mother, I have
rather a job between the two halves of myself. When you come to have
the wild horses in your own soul, mother, it makes it difficult.
MRS. BARLOW. Never mind, you'll have help.
GERALD. Thank you for the assurance, darling.--Father, you don't mind
what mother says, I hope. I believe there's some truth in it--don't
you?
MR. BARLOW. I have nothing to say.
WINIFRED. _I_ think there's some truth in it, daddy.
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