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"
I began to cry, but he checked me and said:
"Don't call her back. She's on her way to God's beautiful Paradise after
all her suffering. Let her go!"
So I lost her, my mother, my saint, my angel.
It was Easter Eve, and the church bells were ringing the Gloria.


EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER

After my mother's death there was no place left for me in my father's
house.
Betsy Beauty (who was now called Miss Betsy and gave herself more than
ever the airs of the daughter of the family) occupied half her days with
the governess who had been engaged to teach her, and the other half in
driving, dressed in beautiful clothes, to the houses of the gentry round
about.
Nessy MacLeod, called the young mistress, had become my father's
secretary, and spent most of her time in his private room, a privilege
which enlarged her pride without improving her manners.
Martin Conrad I did not see, for in reward for some success at school
the doctor had allowed him to spend his Easter holidays in London in
order to look at Nansen's ship, the _Fram_, which had just then arrived
in the Thames.


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