that he
dimly perceived how she was suffering, and how little he knew of her who
had borne him.

Mrs. Pendyce broke the silence:

"But you, George dear? What is going to happen? How are you going to
manage?" And suddenly clasping her hands: "Oh! what is coming?"

Those words, embodying all that had been in his heart so long, were too
much for George. He went abruptly to the door.

"I can't stop now," he said; "I'll come again this evening."

Mrs. Pendyce looked up.

"Oh, George"

But as she had the habit of subordinating her feelings to the feelings of
others, she said no more, but tried to smile.

That smile smote George to the heart.

"Don't worry, Mother; try and cheer up. We'll go to the theatre. You get
the tickets!"

And trying to smile too, but turning lest he should lose his
self-control, he went away.

In the hall he came on his uncle, General Pendyce. He came on him from
behind, but knew him at once by that look of feeble activity about the
back of his knees, by his sloping yet upright shoulders, and the sound of
his voice, with its dry and querulous precision, as of a man whose
occupation has been taken from him.

The General turned round.

"Ah, George," he said, "your mother's here, isn't she? Look at this that
your father's sent me!"

He held out a telegram in a shaky hand.

"Margery up at Green's Hotel. Go and see her at once.
HORACE."

And while George read the General looked at his nephew with eyes that
were ringed by little circles of darker pigment, and had crow's-footed
purses of skin beneath, earned by serving his country in tropical climes.

"What's the meaning of it?" he said. "Go and see her? Of course, I'll
go and see her! Always glad to see your mother. But where's all the
hurry?"

George perceived well enough that his father's pride would not let him
write to her, and though it was for himself that his mother had taken
this step, he sympathised with his father. The General fortunately gave
him little time to answer.

"She's up to get herself some dresses, I suppose? I've seen nothing of
you for a long time. When are you coming to dine with me? I heard at
Epsom that you'd sold your horse. What made you do that? What's your
father telegraphing to me like this for? It's not like him. Your
mother's not ill, is she?"

George shook his head, and muttering something about "Sorry, an
engagement--awful hurry," was gon