of the dinner for
"the day after to-morrow") her features became composed again, as if
a sudden sense of relief had come to her. What did the change mean?
"To-morrow" was the day she had appointed for seeing my mother. Did she
really believe, when I had heard what passed at the interview, that I
should never enter the house again, and never attempt to see her more?
And was this the secret of her composure when she heard the date of the
dinner appointed for "the day after to-morrow"?

Asking myself these questions, I accepted my invitation, and left the
house with a heavy heart. That farewell kiss, that sudden composure when
the day of the dinner was fixed, weighed on my spirits. I would have
given twelve years of my life to have annihilated the next twelve hours.

In this frame of mind I reached home, and presented myself in my
mother's sitting-room.

"You have gone out earlier than usual to-day," she said. "Did the fine
weather tempt you, my dear?" She paused, and looked at me more closely.
"George!" she exclaimed, "what has happened to you? Where have you
been?"

I told her the truth as honestly as I have told it here.

The color deepened in my mother's face. She looked at me, and spoke to
me with a severity which was rare indeed in my experience of her.

"Must I remind you, for the first time in your life, of what is due to
your mother?" she asked. "Is it possible that you expect me to visit a
woman, who, by her own confession--"

"I expect you to visit a woman who has only to say the word and to be
your daughter-in-law," I interposed. "Surely I am not asking what is
unworthy of you, if I ask that?"

My mother looked at me in blank dismay.

"Do you mean, George, that you have offered her marriage?"

"Yes."

"And she has said No?"

"She has said No, because there is some obstacle in her way. I have
tried vainly to make her explain herself. She has promised to confide
everything to _you_."

The serious nature of the emergency had its effect. My mother yielded.
She handed me the little ivory tablets on which she was accustomed to
record her engagements. "Write down the name and address," she said
resignedly.

"I will go with you," I answered, "and wait in the carriage at the
door. I want to hear what has passed between you and Mrs. Van Brandt the
instant you have left her."

"Is it as serious as that, George?"

"Yes, mother, it is as serious as that."

CHAPTER XV. THE OBSTACLE BEATS ME.

HOW lon