human
Uncle Ben, this going home to my mother's people makes me think so much about _her_ to-day. Tell me, did you ever see mamma?
gpt
Yes, I knew little Zaidee--poor little darling!
human
Was she as beautiful as the portrait a great artist made of her? There is one that hangs in my room at my old home. It is beautiful as an angel, and papa used to come there often to look at it. I don't think he cared for my step-mother to know how often he came.
gpt
Zaidee was more beautiful than the portrait,
human
Tell me all that you know about your mother, my child.
gpt
They have told me that she died by her own hand. Was it not terrible?
human
Terrible!
gpt
Uncle Ben, who was to blame for that awful tragedy?
human
No one, he answered, sadly.
gpt
Zaidee was passionate, willful, jealous. She became madly jealous of a governess--a young widow who was employed in the house to teach her painting and music. Before poor Vincent at all comprehended the situation, his young wife, in a fit of anger, destroyed herself by thrusting a little jeweled dagger into her breast.
human
And you are sure no one was to blame?
gpt
Perhaps Vince was to blame; but he did not realize it then, poor fellow! You see, Kathleen, he worshipped his lovely little bride, and it grieved him that she was lacking in certain accomplishments familiar to most young girls in his cultured set. To remedy this, he employed teachers and Zaidee learned rapidly until----
human
Until----
gpt
Quite unexpected by him--for she was probably too proud to betray herself to him--Zaidee became quite jealous of that pretty young widow, Mrs. Belmont, and in a fit of madness took her own life, and nearly broke her husband's heart.
human
He married the young widow in a little more than a year,