Yet something embittered the sweetness of revenge . That boy 's face -- he could not hate it as he had accustomed himself to hate the memory of Neil Jameson and all connected with him . `` What was your mother 's name before she married your father ? '' he demanded abruptly . `` Lisbeth Miller , '' answered the boy , still frowning seaward over his secret thoughts . Turner started again . Lisbeth Miller ! He might have known it . What woman in all the world save Lisbeth Miller could have given her son those eyes and curls ? So Lisbeth had married Neil Jameson -- little Lisbeth Miller , his schoolboy sweetheart . He had forgotten her -- or thought he had ; certainly he had not thought of her for years . But the memory of her came back now with a rush . Little Lisbeth -- pretty little Lisbeth -- merry little Lisbeth ! How clearly he remembered her ! The old Miller place had adjoined his uncle 's farm . Lisbeth and he had played together from babyhood . How he had worshipped her ! When they were six years old they had solemnly promised to marry each other when they grew up , and Lisbeth had let him kiss her as earnest of their compact , made under a bloom-white apple tree in the Miller orchard . Yet she would always blush furiously and deny it ever afterwards ; it made her angry to be reminded of it . He saw himself going to school , carrying her books for her , the envied of all the boys .
He remembered how he had fought Tony Josephs because Tony had the presumption to bring her spice apples : he had thrashed him too , so soundly that from that time forth none of the schoolboys presumed to rival him in XXXXX 's affections -- roguish little Lisbeth !
Jameson Lisbeth Miller Turner books eyes old seaward son years