Then she threw herself face downward on the sofa and burst into wild tears . Her very soul ached . She wept as tempestuously and unreasoningly as youth weeps , although she was not young . It seemed as if she was afraid to stop weeping lest she should go mad thinking . But , after a time , tears failed her , and she began bitterly to go over , word by word , what August Vorst had said . That her son should ever cast eyes of love on any girl was something Thyra had never thought about . She would not believe it possible that he should love any one but herself , who loved him so much . And now the possibility invaded her mind as subtly and coldly and remorselessly as a sea-fog stealing landward . Chester had been born to her at an age when most women are letting their children slip from them into the world , with some natural tears and heartaches , but content to let them go , after enjoying their sweetest years . Thyra 's late-come motherhood was all the more intense and passionate because of its very lateness . She had been very ill when her son was born , and had lain helpless for long weeks , during which other women had tended her baby for her . She had never been able to forgive them for this . Her husband had died before Chester was a year old . She had laid their son in his dying arms and received him back again with a last benediction . To Thyra that moment had something of a sacrament in it . It was as if the child had been doubly given to her , with a right to him solely that nothing could take away or transcend . Marrying ! She had never thought of it in connection with him . He did not come of a marrying race . His father had been sixty when he had married her , Thyra Lincoln , likewise well on in life .
Few of the Lincolns or Carewes had married young , many not XXXXX all .
after although at by for from in into of to