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Updated: June 14, 2025
Mark Ambient called again, and Dolcino struggled in the maternal embrace; but, too tightly held, he after two or three fruitless efforts jerked about and buried his head deep in his mother's lap. There was a certain awkwardness in the scene; I thought it odd Mrs. Ambient should pay so little attention to her husband.
On entering the drawing-room at this hour I found Miss Ambient in possession, as she had been the evening before. "I was right about Dolcino," she said, as soon as she saw me, with an air of triumph that struck me as the climax of perversity. "He's really very ill." "Very ill! Why when I last saw him, at four o'clock, he was in fairly good form."
"Of the unspeakable thing that has happened under this roof!" Her manner was habitually that of such a prophetess of ill that my first impulse was to believe I must allow here for a great exaggeration. But in a moment I saw that her emotion was real. "Dolcino is dying then, he is dead?" "It's too late to save him. His mother has let him die!
I have no doubt he is happy now, with his poor little throat in a state " she dropped her voice as her brother came in, and Mark let us know that, as a matter of course, Mrs. Ambient would not appear. It was true that Dolcino had developed diphtheritic symptoms, but he was quiet for the present, and his mother was earnestly watching him.
He must have been unaware at the moment of all that this conveyed to me as well doubtless of my extreme curiosity to hear what he had replied. He had said how much he hoped Dolcino would read ALL his works when he was twenty; he should like him to know what his father had done. Before twenty it would be useless; he wouldn't understand them.
"Should you like to stand on your feet, my boy?" his father asked. He made a motion that quickly responded. "Oh yes; I'm remarkably well." Mark placed him on the ground; he had shining pointed shoes with enormous bows. "Are you happy now, Mr. Ambient?" "Oh yes, I'm particularly happy," Dolcino replied.
"I am very strong," she said, as she passed into the house, and her slim, flexible figure bent backwards with the filial weight So I never touched Dolcino. I betook myself to Ambient's study, delighted to have a quiet hour to look over his books by myself.
If I could have taken him upon my own knee, he perhaps would have managed to say it; but it would have been far too delicate a matter to ask his mother to give him up, and it has remained a constant regret for me that on that Sunday afternoon I did not, even for a moment, hold Dolcino in my arms.
"Should you like to stand on your feet, my boy?" his father asked. "Oh, yes; I 'm remarkably well," said the child. Mark placed him on the ground; he had shining, pointed slippers, with enormous bows. "Are you happy now, Mr. Ambient?" "Oh, yes, I am particularly happy," Dolcino replied.
"That 's Gwendolen's idea, I suppose," Mrs. Ambient replied, very sweetly. "It's not such an out-of-the-way idea, when one's child is ill." "I 'm not ill, papa; I 'm much better now," Dolcino remarked. "Is that the truth, or are you only saying it to be agreeable? You have a great idea of being agreeable, you know."
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