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 working woman; not an idler; not a fine lady; but one who used her hands and her head and her heart for the good of others. “Her children arise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but she excelleth them all.” Well, I wish I could have seen her, Angel. Since she is pure and chaste she would have been refined enough for me.’

Clare could bear this no longer. His eyes were full of tears, which seemed like drops of molten lead. He bade a quick good-night to these sincere and simple souls whom he loved so well; who knew neither the world, the flesh, nor the devil in their own hearts; only as something vague and external to themselves. He went to his own chamber. His mother followed him, and tapped at his door. Clare opened it to discover her standing without, with anxious eyes.

‘Angel,’ she asked, ‘is there something wrong that you go away so soon? I am quite sure you are not yourself.’

‘I am not, quite, mother,’ said he.

‘About her? Now, my son, I know it is that