mind. He restlessly paced the room, angry with his mother,
himself--with the whole world. Mrs. Gwynne might well notice how this
sudden passion had changed his nature. A moralist, looking on the
knotted brow, would have smiled to see--not for the first time--a wise
man making of himself a slave, nay, a very fool, for the enchantments of
a beautiful woman.

His mother took his arm and walked with him up and down the room,
without talking to him at all. But her firm step and firm clasp seemed
to soothe--almost force him into composure. She had over him at once a
mother's influence and a father's control.

Meanwhile, Captain Rothesay busied, or seemed to busy himself, with his
numerous letters, and very wisely kept nearly out of sight.

As soon as her son appeared a little recovered from his vexation, Mrs.
Gwynne said,

"Now, Harold, if you are quite willing, I want to talk to you for a few
minutes. Shall it be now or this evening?"

"This evening I shall ride over to Waterton."

"What! not one evening to spare for your mother, or"----she corrected
herself, "for your beloved books?"

He moved restlessly.

"Nay, I have had enough of study; I must have interest, amusement,
excitement. I think I have drunk all the world's pleasures dry, except
this one. Mother, don't keep it from me; I know no rest except I am
beside Sara."

He rarely spoke to her so freely, and, despite her pain, the mother was
touched.

"Go, then, go to Sara; and the matter I wished to speak upon we will
discuss now."

He sat down and listened, though often only with his outward ears, to
her plan, by which Captain Rothesay might be saved from his difficulty.

"It is a merely nominal thing; I would do it myself, but a man's name
would be more useful than a woman's. Yours will. My son Harold will at
once perform such a trifling act of kindness for his mother's friend."

"Of course--of course. Come, mother, tell me what to do; you understand
business affairs much better than your son!" said Harold, as he rose to
seek his guest.

Captain Rothesay scrupled a while longer; but at length the dazzling
vision of coming wealth absorbed both pride and reluctance. It would be
so hard to miss the chance of thousands, by objecting to a mere form.
"Besides, Harold Gwynne shall share my success," he thought; and
he formed many schemes for changing the comparative poverty of the
parsonage into comfort and luxury. It was only when the pen was in the
young