er aching,
the rage of defeat and starved possession, the lost delight, the
sensation of ashes and disgust; and yet her heart was full enough already
of relief and shame, compassion, jealousy, love, and deep longing. Only
twice was the silence broken. Once when he asked her whether she had
lunched, and she who had eaten nothing all day answered:

"Yes, dear--yes."

Once when he said:

"You shouldn't have come here, Mother; I'm a bit out of sorts!"

She watched his face, dearest to her in all the world, bent towards the
floor, and she so yearned to hold it to her breast that, since she dared
not, the tears stole up, and silently rolled down her cheeks. The
stillness in that room, chosen for remoteness, was like the stillness of
a tomb, and, as in a tomb, there was no outlook on the world, for the
glass of the skylight was opaque.

That deathly stillness settled round her heart; her eyes fixed themselves
on the skylight, as though beseeching it to break and let in sound. A
cat, making a pilgrimage from roof to roof, the four dark moving spots of
its paws, the faint blur of its body, was all she saw. And suddenly,
unable to bear it any longer, she cried:

"Oh, George, speak to me! Don't put me away from you like this!"

George answered:

"What do you want me to say, Mother?"

"Nothing--only----"

And falling on her knees beside her son, she pulled his head down against
her breast, and stayed rocking herself to and fro, silently shifting
closer till she could feel his head lie comfortably; so, she had his face
against her heart, and she could not bear to let it go. Her knees hurt
her on the boarded floor, her back and all her body ached; but not for
worlds would she relax an inch, believing that she could comfort him with
her pain, and her tears fell on his neck. When at last he drew his face
away she sank down on the floor, and could not rise, but her fingers felt
that the bosom of her dress was wet. He said hoarsely:

"It's all right, Mother; you needn't worry!"

For no reward would she have looked at him just then, but with a deeper
certainty than reason she knew that he was safe.

Stealthily on the sloping skylight the cat retraced her steps, its four
paws dark moving spots, its body a faint blur.

Mrs. Pendyce rose.

"I won't stay now, darling. May I use your glass?"

Standing before that mirror, smoothing back her hair, passing her
handkerchief over her cheeks and eyes and lips, she thought