I only
do as my betters do, when I call Leonard's mother Mrs. Denbigh."
The moment she had said this she was sorry; it was an ungenerous
advantage after the enemy had acknowledged himself defeated. Mr.
Benson dropped his head upon his hands and bid his face, and
sighed deeply.
Leonard flew in search of his mother, as in search of a refuge.
If he had found her calm, he would have burst into a passion of
crying after his agitation; as it was, he came upon her kneeling
and sobbing, and he stood quite still. Then he threw his arms
round her neck, and said, "Mamma! mamma! I will be good--I make a
promise; I will speak true--I make a promise." And he kept his
word.
Miss Benson piqued herself upon being less carried away by her
love for this child than any one else in the house; she talked
severely, and had capital theories; but her severity ended in
talk, and her theories would not work.
However, she read several books on education, knitting socks for
Leonard all the while; and, upon the whole, I think, the hands
were more usefully employed than the head, and the good honest
heart better than either. She looked older than when we first
knew her, but it was a ripe, kindly age that was coming over her.
Her excellent practical sense, perhaps, made her a more masculine
character than her brother. He was often so much perplexed by the
problems of life, that he let the time for action go by; but she
kept him in check by her clear, pithy talk, which brought back
his wandering thoughts to the duty that lay straight before him,
waiting for action; and then he remembered that it was the
faithful part to "wait patiently upon God," and leave the ends in
His hands, who alone knows why Evil exists in this world, and why
it ever hovers on either side of Good.
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