"I'm happy in your love, but all the rest--is all the rest. It isn't
your father's fault wholly. He was busy; he forgot me. Dear, dear boy,
never give up your soul to things only, keep it for people."

She was naturally straight and composed; yet as she stood there, she had
a certain lonely splendour like some soft metal burning. Among her
fellow-citizens she had place and position, but she took no lead; she was
always an isolated attachment of local enterprises. It was in her own
house where her skill and adaptability had success. She had brought into
her soul misery and martyrdom, and all martyrs are lonely and apart.

Sharp visions of what she was really flashed through Carnac's mind, and
he said:

"Mother, there must be something wrong with you and me. You were
naturally a great woman, and sometimes I have a feeling I might be a
great man, but I don't get started for it. I suppose, you once had an
idea you'd play a big part in the world?"

"Girls have dreams," she answered with moist eyes, "and at times I
thought great things might come to me; but I married and got lost."

"You got lost?" asked Carnac anxiously, for there was a curious note in
her voice.

She tried to change the effect of her words.

"Yes, I lost myself in somebody else's ambitions I lost myself in the
storm."