The name which she had given to you
could be restored to honor by you only. To train and equip you for your
work, and to enable you, unhampered by need, to gain your footing, was the
determined passion of her life. Her sacrifice, her suffering to that end,
was the only restitution she could make to you for that which your father
had squandered. Her proud spirit, her fine intelligence, her mother love
for you, demanded it."
"I know," returned the artist. "She told me before she died. She made me
understand. She said that it was my inheritance. She asked for my promise
that I would be true to her purpose. Her last words were an expression of
her confidence that I would not disappoint her--that I would win a place
and name that would wipe out the shame of my father's dishonor. And I
will, Lagrange, I must. Mother--mother shall not be disappointed--she
shall not be disappointed."
"No,"--said the older man, so softly that the other, torn by the passion
of his own thoughts, did not hear,--"No, Aaron, your mother will not be
disappointed."
For a time longer they sat in silence. Then the young man said, "I wish I
knew the name of my mother's friend--the one who suffered the heaviest
loss through my father, and who so generously protected her in the crisis.
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