His
health seemed shaken, he spoke half sentences in his sleep, which
showed that in his dreams he was battling on his mother's behalf
against an unkind and angry world. And then he would wail to
himself, and utter sad words of shame, which they never thought
had reached his ears. By day, he was in general grave and quiet;
but his appetite varied, and he was evidently afraid of going
into the streets, dreading to be pointed at as an object of
remark. Each separately in their hearts longed to give him change
of scene; but they were all silent, for where was the requisite
money to come from?
His temper became fitful and variable. At times he would be most
sullen against his mother; and then give way to a passionate
remorse. When Mr. Benson caught Ruth's look of agony at her
child's rebuffs, his patience failed; or rather, I should say, he
believed that a stronger, severer hand than hers was required for
the management of the lad. But, when she heard Mr. Benson say so,
she pleaded with him.
"Have patience with Leonard," she said. "I have deserved the
anger that is fretting in his heart. It is only I who can
reinstate myself in his love and respect. I have no fear. When he
sees me really striving hard and long to do what is right, he
must love me. I am not afraid."
Even while she spoke, her lips quivered, and her colour went and
came with eager anxiety. So Mr. Benson held his peace, and let
her take her course.
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