"My dear," said her mother, "it is the little things--little pleasures,
little vexations--that far more than the great make up the sum total of
our happiness or misery in this life."
Edward was very silent during the rest of the evening, and his mother,
watching him furtively and putting that and that together, felt sure that
something had gone wrong between him and his young wife.
When the good-nights had been said and the family had scattered to their
rooms, he lingered behind, and his mother, who had left the room,
perceiving it, returned to find him standing on the hearth, gazing moodily
into the fire.
She went to him, and laying her hand gently on his shoulder. "My dear
boy," she said, in her sweet low tones, "I cannot help seeing that
something has gone wrong with you; I don't ask what it is, but you have
your mother's sympathy in every trouble."
"It is unfortunately something you would not want me to repeat even to
you, my best and dearest of mothers, but your assurance of sympathy is
sweet and comforting, nevertheless," he said, taking her in his arms with
a look and manner so like his father's, that tears sprang unbidden to her
eyes.
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