ulfil his desire for a child of
his own. On these occasions he overwhelmed her with attentions.

Meanwhile Arthur, in the best of spirits, had arrived at Overton. Mrs.
Payne awaited him in a state of tremulous emotion. Now, for the first
time, she was to see her son made whole. Her elation was not without
misgiving, for the news of the miracle was almost too good to be true;
she couldn't help feeling that the Considines had judged him with a
scrutiny more superficial than her own, and though it was not for her
to dispute the intellectual blossoming that had raised such hopes in
his master, she couldn't be sure about the deeper, moral change until
she had seen for herself. Certainly his appearance on the station
platform gave her a sudden thrill of pleasure. Her boy had become a
man; his body had gained in solidity and balance, and his upper lip was
fledged with a fair down. He took her in his arms and kissed her with
a serious manliness that was new to her, and made her heart leap with
pride. His voice, too, had deepened. It was soft and low and
uncannily like his father's. Time after time she was struck by little
tricks of gesture and expression that were familiar to her, but had
never appeared in him before. He was indeed a stranger, yet a hundred
times more lovable than the son she had known.

A couple of days convinced her that the change was not merely something
added, but vital and elemental. He showed it in a multitude of small
things--in his consideration for the servants, in his attentions to
herself, in the serious interest that he showed in matters that had not
touched him before, in affairs, in books, in newspaper politics. Even
so she had been flattered too often by transient improvements to be
convinced. Deliberately and fearfully she tested him, but never found
him wanting. Then her joy and thankfulness were too deep for words.

And yet the position was not without its awkwardness. She knew that
Arthur was kinder, more human, and--if that were possible to her--more
lovable, but, in spite of these things, she could not help feeling that
there was something in this new and delightful nature that was foreign
to herself ... foreign, and even, subtly, hostile. It seemed to her
that in some peculiar way he was on the defensive. Up to a certain
point she could enter freely into his confidence, but after that point
she knew in her heart that there was something that he denied her.
Now, more th