She saw that Tom was sober; he had taken care to prove that, by the way in which he spoke; and she saw, too, that he was a better bred man than her husband, as well as a cleverer.

She dropped her eye before his; heaved something very like a sigh; and then said, in her curt, fierce tone, which yet implied a sort of sullen resignation-- "Yes; come up-stairs." Tom went up, and looked at the boy again, as he lay sleeping.

A beautiful child of four years old, as large and fair a child as man need see; and yet there was on him the curse of his father's sins; and Tom knew it, and knew that his mother knew it also.
"What a noble boy!" said he, after looking, not without honest admiration, upon the sleeping child, who had kicked off his bed-clothes, and lay in a wild graceful attitude, as children are wont to lie; just like an old Greek statue of Cupid, "It all depends upon you, madam, now." "On me ?" she asked, in a startled, suspicious tone.
"Yes.

He is a magnificent boy: but--I can only give palliatives.

It depends upon your care now." "He will have that, at least, I should hope," she said, nettled.
"And on your influence ten years hence," went on Tom.
"My influence ?" "Yes; only keep him steady, and he may grow up a magnificent man.