Now it so happened that negotiations on my part were pending in respect to a summer position for Reginald, who had proved to be one of those open-faced, smiling lads whom everybody loves at a glance. The position, if gained, would immensely improve his prospects, and recalling this, I remarked without sufficient reflection, "It seems almost a pity Reginald could not stay in the new country. There is so much greater opportunity for youth here." A sudden flash of steel from the dark eyes, and a tightening of the sensitive mouth recalled me to myself and at the same time almost startled me by the intensity of feeling they revealed. "Leave my boy?" she said with one level, boring look at me.
I quailed, I groveled, I knew myself for the born idiot that I was and that the feeble, "Yes, of course, I wasn't thinking," with which I endeavored to palliate my fatuousness, failed to cover my inadequacy of soul.
I tried to make it up to her, or rather to myself—in the parting speed I gave her, well knowing the while, that substance without, never does nor ever can atone for poverty within, and he who fails to comprehend the majesty of motherhood belittles himself only.
