“Therefore, my darling, the sweetness and goodness of your young life ought not to be wasted on that which is vain and empty.  If Mr. Arnold were worthy of your affections he would not have left you all this time without even a word.  And, Millie, we may as well face the truth:  we never belonged to the Arnolds’ world, and it was wicked folly, for which I suffer hourly remorse, that we ever tried to approach it.  If, instead of attempting to live like our rich neighbors, I had saved a goodly portion of your father’s income, all might have been so different; but I was never taught to save, and I was just blind—­blind.  I never see your father but the thought comes, like a stab in the heart, I might have prevented it.  Oh, if I had only stayed with him!  It was during that fatal separation that he formed the habit which will cause his death and mine.”  (Poor Mrs. Jocelyn always remained under this illusion.)

“Oh, mamma, mamma, don’t talk that way:  I can’t bear it.”

“I must prepare you, Millie, darling, for what I clearly foresee.  Martin is destroying himself, and I shall not long survive him.  Oh, Millie, it’s a terrible thing to love a weak man as I love your father.  I love him so that his course is killing me.  It could not be otherwise, for I am much to blame.  Don’t interrupt me; I am speaking these bitter words for your ultimate good.  Your life is before you—­”

“Mamma, how can my life be before me if you die broken-hearted?”

“Because you are young.  You know that it would add tenfold bitterness to my already overflowing cup if I saw no chance for you, Belle, and the little ones.  You may soon have to be mother and sister both.  I forewarn you, because, as Roger says, you are strong as well as gentle, and you must not just drift helplessly toward we know not what.  Oh, Millie, my poor crushed heart must have one consolation before it is at rest.  Roger is not, and never will be, a weak man.  It is not in his nature to give way to fatal habits.  I, too, with a woman’s eye, have seen his deep, strong affection for you, and with a mother’s jealous love I have studied his character.  He is a young giant, Millie, whom you unconsciously awoke to manhood.  He comes of a sturdy, practical race, and unites to their shrewdness a chivalric Southern heart and large brain.  He doesn’t begin to know, himself, how much of a man he is, but the experience of life will fast develop him.  He is one who will master circumstances, and not be molded by them.  Obstacles will only stimulate his will.  Your prejudice and dislike have not made him falter a moment.  In the heart of a girl like you, Millie, I truly believe that a new love for such a man will surely spring up, and grow and strengthen with each succeeding year, and you would be worthy of him.  You could make him happy, and eventually add greatly to his success.  He is sure to become eminent, and be burdened with many large affairs, and the home you could make for