She must have some one near her, she
felt--some one with whom she could speak--or she should go mad. She
longed for her mother. It was true Margaret Dornham was not an educated
woman, but in her way she was refined. She was gentle, tender-hearted,
thoughtful, patient, above all, Madaline believed she was her
mother--and she had never longed for her mother's love and care as she
did now, when health, strength, and life seemed to be failing her.
By good fortune she happened to see in the daily papers that Lord
Arleigh was staying at Meurice's Hotel, in Paris. She wrote to him
there, and told him that she had a great longing to have her mother with
her. She told him that she had desired this for a long time, but that
she had refrained[6] from expressing the wish lest it should be
displeasing to him.
"Do not scruple to refuse me," she said, "if you do not approve. I
hardly venture to hope that you will give your consent. If you do, I
will thank you for it. If you should think it best to refuse it, I
submit humbly as I submit now. Let me add that I would not ask the favor
but that my health and strength are failing fast.
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