nigh half an hour--until she made things look so different that I did
not know whether I was on my head or my heels."

"She would have it that every one ought to work, old or young, rich or
poor; that she loved Miss Anna all the better for so readily offering
herself for the work. 'I should have left her free,' she said that, Mr.
Malcolm--'no one in my house should be compelled or urged to put their
hand to the plough; but when she came to me of her own accord I could
have wept with joy.'"

"Did my mother really say that, Dawson?"

"Ay, Mr. Malcolm, she did; and begging your pardon, dearie, you do not
half understand my mistress. She is quiet-spoken, and does not show her
feelings; but she has a warm heart. I know as well as you do that our
poor child is put upon and overworked, but she is the sunshine of my
mistress's life; that's what makes things so difficult, for Miss Anna
is bent on helping her, and will not listen to a word."

Malcolm soon found he must hold his peace, and very soon his mind was
too much absorbed by his own concerns. After a time he got used to
Anna's pale cheeks; she had refused to listen to his advice, and must
dree her weird.

He had his own battles to fight, and victory was not easily achieved;
nevertheless his masculine will prevailed.

It was no hastily considered resolution that determined Malcolm to
leave his mother's roof and set up in chambers of his own, neither did
he effect his purpose without a good deal of pain; but, as he told
Cedric, life at 27 Queen's Gate was becoming impossible to him.

But it was one of the worst moments of his life when he announced his
intention to his mother. She listened to his embarrassed explanation
silently, and without offering any interruption; but her pleasant,
strong-featured face grew set and stern, and when he had finished she
looked at him almost solemnly.

"He was the only son of his mother, and she was a widow," she said
slowly and sadly, and no word of reproach could have stung him more
deeply. It made him angry.

"Mother, you have no right to say that, and to speak as though I were
failing in my duty towards you," he returned indignantly; "it is not
fair--all my life I have tried to please you, and to carry out your
wishes."

"I am not complaining of you, Malcolm," she replied quietly; "your own
conscience is accusing you, not your mother. Would you have me suppress
the truth or tell you a lie? Do you think any mother could list