Page:Keeping the Peace.pdf/287

 he wished that he did not so strongly resemble brother James.

Dear Mother, who knew nothing of these complications and responsibilities, had made up her mind to keep Edward at home. So many people had spoken to her about his illustrations, his talent, or his genius—at the option of the individual enthusiasm—and his good looks (this particular praise was a matter of sex) that she began to approve of the course that Edward had steered with his young life. She admitted that she had wished him to enter the Church; but she had also encouraged him to draw, helped him in his choice of subjects and bought him a fine box of paints. Of course he had always been her boy—her baby.

Now daily she worked upon his feelings. She made him her confidant, told him that his darling, precious, sainted father had not long to live and that she herself had no one to lean on or confide in. James? Well, he had been away so much—not callous, you know—but very intent upon his own personal fortune—and what a success he was! She had always expected great things of James; but this brilliant marriage, to this exquisite young fatherless and motherless creature—for whom one's heart ached—with all her money and so forth and so forth. It was really overwhelming!

She was steadily kind, admiring and indulgent.