"Mother!" said he, hurriedly, "I cannot hear a word against her. Spare me,--spare me! I am very weak in my sore heart;--I love her yet; I love her more than ever."
"And I hate her," said Mrs. Thornton, in a low fierce voice. "I tried not to hate her, when she stood between you and me, because,--I said to myself,--she will make him happy; and I would give my heart's blood to do that. But now, I hate her for your misery's sake. Yes, John, it's no use hiding up your aching heart from me. I am the mother that bore you, and your sorrow is my agony; and if you don't hate her, I do."

said he. 'I cannot hear a word against her. Spare my sore heart - I love her yet; I love her more than ever.'
'And I hate her,' said Mrs. Thornton, in a low fierce voice. 'I tried not to hate her, because - I said to myself - she will make him happy. But now, I hate her for your misery's sake. I am the mother that bore you, and your sorrow is my agony; and if you don't hate her, I do.'
