day in a dream, so sudden and important
was this new aspect of things to me. I was to learn Latin! Now that the
humiliation of my failure at Bladesover was past for her, now that she
had a little got over her first intense repugnance at this resort to my
uncle and contrived something that seemed like a possible provision for
my future, the tenderness natural to a parting far more significant than
any of our previous partings crept into her manner.

She sat in the train to return, I remember, and I stood at the open door
of her compartment, and neither of us knew how soon we should cease for
ever to be a trouble to one another.

"You must be a good boy, George," she said. "You must learn.... And you
mustn't set yourself up against those who are above you and better than
you.... Or envy them."

"No, mother," I said.

I promised carelessly. Her eyes were fixed upon me. I was wondering
whether I could by any means begin Latin that night.

Something touched her heart then, some thought, some memory; perhaps
some premonition.... The solitary porter began slamming carriage doors.

"George" she said hastily, almost shamefully, "kiss me!"

I stepped up into her compartment as she bent downward.

She caught me in her arms quite eagerly, she pressed me to her--a
strange thing for her to do. I perceived her eyes were extraordinarily
bright, and then this brightness burst along the lower lids and rolled
down her cheeks.

For the first and last time in my life I saw my mother's tears. Then she
had gone, leaving me discomforted and perplexed, forgetting for a time
even that I was to learn Latin, thinking of my mother as of something
new and strange.

The thing recurred though I sought to dismiss it, it stuck itself
into my memory against the day of fuller understanding. Poor, proud,
habitual, sternly narrow soul! poor difficult and misunderstanding son!
it was the first time that ever it dawned upon me that my mother also
might perhaps feel.

VII

My mother died suddenly and, it was thought by Lady Drew,
inconsiderately, the following spring. Her ladyship instantly fled to
Folkestone with Miss Somerville and Fison, until the funeral should be
over and my mother's successor installed.

My uncle took me over to the funeral. I remember there was a sort of
prolonged crisis in the days preceding this because, directly he heard
of my loss, he had sent a pair of check trousers to the Judkins people
in London to be dyed blac