"You're very hard on me, son Dan'el," she said at last; "for you know
you was always my favourite son."

A touching thing to say to such an old man; but there was no reply.

"And I never took any pride in Peter," she continued, "he was that
undutiful; and his grandson's a mere child."

Still no reply.

"I was in hopes, if I could get speech of you, I should find you'd got
reasonable with age, Dan'el; for God knows you was as innocent of it as
the babe unborn."

Old Daniel Mortimer sighed deeply. They had been parted nearly sixty
years, but their last words and their first words had been on the same
subject; and it was as fresh in the minds of both as if only a few days
had intervened between them. Still it seemed he could find nothing to
say, and she, rousing up, cried out passionately,--

"Would you have had me denounce my own flesh and blood?"

"No, madam, no," answered the younger.

She noticed the different appellation instantly, and turning on him,
said, with vigour and asperity,--

"And you, Augustus, that I hear is rich, and has settled all your
daughters well, and got a son of your own, _you_ might know a parent's
feelings. It's ill done of you to encourage Dan'el in his obstinacy."