it, either 'cause there was too little or else too much. And
Dick's gone an' done this? And him with all his preachin' about rights
and wrongs an' what not! Him as was always a-cryin' down the rich folks
'cause they hadn't no feelin' for the poor! What feeling's _he_ had, I'd
like to know? It's him as is rich now, an' where's the difference 'tween
him and them as he called names? No feelin' for the poor! An' what's
Emma Vine? Poor enough by now. There's Jane as can't have not a week
more to live, an' she a-nursin' her night an' day. He'll give her
money!--has he got the face to say it? Nay, don't talk to me, girl; I'll
say what I think if it's the last I speak in this world. Don't let him
come to me! Never a word again shall he have from me as long as I live.
He's disgraced himself, an' me his mother, an' his father in the grave.
A poor girl as couldn't help herself, as trusted him an' wouldn't hear
not a word against him, for all he kep' away from her in her trouble.
I'd a fear o' this, but I wouldn't believe it of Dick; I wouldn't
believe it of a son o' mine. An' 'Arry 'll go the same way. It's all the
money, an a curse go with all the money as ever was made! An' you too,
Alice, wi' your fine dresses, an' your piannerin', an' your faldedals.
But I warn you, my girl. There 'll no good come of it. I warn you,
Alice! You're ashamed o' your own mother--oh, I've seen it! But it's
a mercy if you're not a disgrace to her. I'm thankful as I was always
poor; I might 'a been tempted i' the same way.'

The dogma of a rude nature full of secret forces found utterance at
length under the scourge of a resentment of very mingled quality. Let
half be put to the various forms of disinterested feeling, at least half
was due to personal exasperation. The whole change that her life had
perforce undergone was an outrage upon the stubbornness of uninstructed
habit; the old woman could see nothing but evil omens in a revolution
which cost her bodily discomfort and the misery of a mind perplexed amid
alien conditions. She was prepared for evil; for months she had brooded
over every sign which seemed to foretell its approach; the egoism of
the unconscious had made it plain to her that the world must suffer in
a state of things which so grievously affected herself. Maternal
solicitude kept her restlessly swaying between apprehension for her
children and injury in the thought of their estrangement from her.
And now at length a bitter shame added