His sense of shame for their common humiliated
state had dropped; the case had another side--the thing was to clutch at
_that_. He had a moment of boyish joy, scarcely mitigated by the
reflexion that with this unexpected consecration of his hope--too sudden
and too violent; the turn taken was away from a _good_ boy's book--the
"escape" was left on their hands. The boyish joy was there an instant,
and Pemberton was almost scared at the rush of gratitude and affection
that broke through his first abasement. When he stammered "My dear
fellow, what do you say to _that_?" how could one not say something
enthusiastic? But there was more need for courage at something else that
immediately followed and that made the lad sit down quietly on the
nearest chair. He had turned quite livid and had raised his hand to his
left side. They were all three looking at him, but Mrs. Moreen suddenly
bounded forward. "Ah his darling little heart!" she broke out; and this
time, on her knees before him and without respect for the idol, she
caught him ardently in her arms.
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