olly in the hands of others; and
secondly, because his presence was required at the embassy and his
services were constantly in requisition. To abandon his career was a
course he never contemplated for a moment. His personal resources were
small, and his pay was now considerable, so that he depended upon it for
the necessities of life. He had never been willing to touch his
brother's money, either, and this honorable refusal had practically
crushed all gossip about Alexander's disappearance; so that at the
present time he was dependent upon himself. With the prospect of being a
_charge d'affaires_ in a short time, and of being chancellor of an
embassy at forty, he believed that he could fairly propose to marry
Hermione. But to do this he must abide by his career, a conclusion which
effectually prevented his flying from danger and giving the inquiry
entirely into my hands. With a keen sense of honor and a very strong
determination on the one side, and all the force of his love for
Hermione on the other, Paul's position was not an easy one, and he knew
it.

Nor was his mind wholly at rest concerning his mother. He had seen her
that afternoon, and had recognized that in the ordinary sense of the
word, and in the common opinion of people on the subject, she was
perfectly sane. She looked, moved, talked, ate, and dressed as though
she were wholly in her right mind; but Paul was not satisfied. He had
seen the old gleam of unreasoning anger in her eyes, when she had said
that he knew Alexander could never be found; meaning, as Paul supposed,
that he knew how the unfortunate man had come to his end. That this
belief had been the cause and first beginning of her madness, he was
convinced; and if the disturbing element was still present in her mind,
it might assert itself again at any moment with direful results. He was
willing, for the sake of argument, to believe that her idea was a
delusion, and indeed he preferred to think so. He did not like the
thought that his mother could seriously and sanely believe him to be a
murderer, though she had given him reason enough for knowing how she had
always disliked him. There was no affection between the mother and the
son, there was not even much respect; but beyond respect and affection
we recognize in the relations of a mother with her children a sort of
universal law of fitness, embracing the few conditions without which
there can be no relations at all between them. That a mother sh