Moreover, she had felt from his tone that there was more to come; that what he had said was but the preface to some story that he desired her to be acquainted with.

And presently, as she expected, he continued.
"She died, Mistress Winthrop, of a broken heart.

My father had abandoned her two years and more before she died.

In those years of repining--ay, and worse, of actual want--her health was broken so that, poor soul, she died." "O pitiful!" cried Hortensia, pain in her face.
"Pitiful, indeed--the more pitiful that her death was a source of some slight happiness to those who loved her; the only happiness they could have in her was to know that she was at rest." "And--and your father ?" "I am coming to him.

My mother had a friend--a very noble, lofty-minded gentleman who had loved her with a great and honest love before the profligate who was my father came forward as a suitor.