hand on his arm was real. With a great effort
he spoke: "Have you told Rupert?"

"Mother told him last night."

"What did he say?"

"I don't know--but they had a terrible scene. Rupert," her lip quivered,
"went away without a word last night. Only he told mother that if I
would not give you up he would never come into the house again. But he
loves me more than any one in the world, and he can't do without me. I
know that he can't, and I know that he will come back. Mother wants to
see you; perhaps you will go up to her."

She had moved back from him and was looking at him with sad perplexity.
He knew that he must seem strange and cold standing there, in the middle
of the room, without making any movement towards her, but he could not
help himself, he seemed to have no power over his own actions.

Coming up to him she flung her arms round his neck. "Olva, Olva, tell
me, I can't endure it"--but slowly he detached himself from her and
left her.

As he went through the dark close passage he wondered how God could be
so cruel.

When he came into Mrs. Craven's room he knew that her presence comforted
him. The dark figure on the faded sofa by the fire seemed to him now
more real than anything else in the world. Although Mrs. Craven made
no movement yet he felt that she encouraged him come to her, that she
wanted him. The room was very dark and bare, and although a large fire
blazed in the hearth, it was cold. Beyond the window a misty world,
dank, with dripping trees, stretched to a dim horizon. Mrs. Craven did
not turn her eyes from the fire when she heard him enter. He felt as
though she were watching him and knew that he had drawn a chair beside
the sofa. Suddenly she moved her hand towards him and he took it and
held it for a moment.

She turned and he saw that she had been crying.

"I had a talk with my son last night," she said at last, and her voice
seemed to him the saddest thing that he had ever heard. "We had always
loved one another until lately. Last night he spoke to me as he has
never spoken before. He was very angry and I know that he did not mean
all that he said to me--but it hurt me."

"I'm afraid, Mrs. Craven, that it was because of me. Rupert is very
angry with me and he refuses to consent to Margaret's marriage with me.
Is not that so?"

"Yes, but it is not only that. For many weeks now he has not been
himself with me. I am not a happy woman. I have had much to make me
unhappy. My children a