![]() What I suffered then, and still suffer, is not for pen to write or paper to record. I had given it to brutes that they might make it brutal, and to fools that they might turn it into a synonym for folly. I had made it a low by-word among low people. She and my father had bequeathed me a name they had made noble and honoured, not merely in literature, art, archaeology, and science, but in the public history of my own country, in its evolution as a nation. Her death was terrible to me but I, once a lord of language, have no words in which to express my anguish and my shame. ![]() No one knew how deeply I loved and honoured her. Three more months go over and my mother dies. ![]()
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