Explore "The Caxtons Part IX" by Edward Bulwer-lytton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
We came back to my father's house, and on the stairs we met my mother, whom Roland's grave looks and her Austin's strange absence had alarmed. My father quietly led the way to a little room which my mother had appropriated to Blanche and herself, and then, placing my hand in that which had helped his own steps from the stony path down the quiet vales of life, he said to me: "Nature gives you here the soother; " and so saying, he left the room.
And it was true, O my mother! that in thy simple, loving breast nature did place the deep wells of comfort! We come to men for philosophy, -- to women for consolation. And the thousand weaknesses and regrets, the sharp sands of the minutiae that make up sorrow, -- all these, which I could have betrayed to no man (not even to him, the dearest and tenderest of all men), I showed without shame to thee! And thy tears, that fell on my cheek, had the balm of Araby; and my heart at length lay lulled and soothed under thy moist, gentle eyes.