"You must be a good boy, George," she said. "You must learn.... And you
mustn't set yourself up against those who are above you and better than
you.... Or envy them."
"No, mother," I said.
I promised carelessly. Her eyes were fixed upon me. I was wondering
whether I could by any means begin Latin that night.
Something touched her heart then, some thought, some memory; perhaps
some premonition.... The solitary porter began slamming carriage doors.
"George" she said hastily, almost shamefully, "kiss me!"
I stepped up into her compartment as she bent downward.
She caught me in her arms quite eagerly, she pressed me to her--a
strange thing for her to do. I perceived her eyes were extraordinarily
bright, and then this brightness burst along the lower lids and rolled
down her cheeks.
For the first and last time in my life I saw my mother's tears. Then she
had gone, leaving me discomforted and perplexed, forgetting for a time
even that I was to learn Latin, thinking of my mother as of something
new and strange.
The thing recurred though I sought to dismiss it, it stuck itself
into my memory against the day of fuller understanding.
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