heart swelled with pride in her son.
“No, you’ll never do anything mean or dishonorable, Espy,” she said, smiling up at him.
Then growing suddenly grave, and an anxious, troubled look stealing over her face at the recollection of her husband’s anger, which she knew must have waxed hot at his son’s resistance to his demand: “But there’ll be no peace between your father and you if you go against his will; so if Floy chooses to break the engagement herself, you needn’t feel called upon to try to hold her to it.”
“Mother,” he said, “you are keeping something back; tell me all. You have spoken to her—told her what father says?”
His eyes were gazing steadily into hers, and there was a mingling of grief and suppressed wrath that made her fear to answer him. She hesitated, then said hastily:
“You’d better go to her. She can tell you what she likes.”
He turned without a word, caught up his hat, and went.
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