' But Jack only looked steadily at
her, smiling a little and patting her hand.
'You'd shine there, mother,' said Graeme, smiling upon her; 'you'd
better come with me.' She started, and said faintly--
'With you?' It was the first hint he had given of his purpose. 'You are
going back?'
'What! as a missionary?' said Jack.
'Not to preach, Jack; I'm not orthodox enough,' looking at his father
and shaking his head; 'but to build railroads and lend a hand to some
poor chap, if I can.'
'Could you not find work nearer home, my boy?' asked the father; 'there
is plenty of both kinds near us here, surely.'
'Lots of work, but not mine, I fear,' answered Graeme, keeping his eyes
away from his mother's face. 'A man must do his own work.'
His voice was quiet and resolute, and glancing at the beautiful face at
the end of the table, I saw in the pale lips and yearning eyes that the
mother was offering up her firstborn, that ancient sacrifice. But not
all the agony of sacrifice could wring from her entreaty or complaint
in the hearing of her sons.
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