might have felt herself partially compensated by these kind words of
affection:

"My kind and excellent mother,--After writing to you in such haste,
I felt my inmost heart melt as I read your letter again, and I
worshipped you. How shall I return to you, when shall I return to
you, and can I ever return to you, by my love and endeavors for
your happiness, all that you have done for me? I can at present
only express my deep thankfulness. . . . How deep is my gratitude
towards the kind hearts who pluck some of the thorns from my life
and smooth my path by their affection. But constrained to an
unceasing warfare against destiny, I have not always leisure to
give utterance to what I feel. I would not, however, allow a day
to pass without letting you know the tenderness your late proofs
of devotion excite in me. A mother suffers the pangs of labor more
than once with her children, does she not, my mother? Poor
mothers, are you ever enough beloved! . . . I hope, my much
beloved mother, you will not let yourself grow dejected. I work as
hard as it is possible for a man to work; a day is only twelve
hours long, I can do no more. . . . Farewell, my darling mother; I
am very tired! Coffee burns my stomach. For the last twenty days I
have taken no rest; and yet I must still work on, that I may
remove your anxieties. . . . Keep your house; I had already sent
an answer to Laura, I will not let either you or Surville bear the
burden of my affairs. However, until the arrival of my proxy, it
is understood that Laura, who is my cash keeper, will remit you a
hundred and fifty francs a month. You may reckon on this as a
regular payment; nothing in the world will take precedence of it.
Then, at the end of November to December 10, you will have the
surplus of thirty-six thousand francs to reimburse you for the