his heart went out to her with pity as intense as its longing.
Other women had drawn his eyes, had captured him with the love of a
day; but the deep still affection which is independent of moods and
impressions flowed ever towards Adela. As easily could he have become
indifferent to his mother as to Adela. As a married woman she
was infinitely more to him than she had been as a girl; from her
conversation, her countenance, he knew how richly she had developed, how
her intelligence had ripened how her character had established itself in
maturity. In that utterance of her name the secret escaped him before he
could think how impossible it was to address her so familiarly. It was
the perpetual key-word of his thoughts; only when he had heard it from
his own lips did he realise what he had done.

When he had given the brief answer to her question he could find no more
words. But Adela spoke.

'What do you wish to say to me, Mr. Eldon?'

Whether or no he interpreted her voice by his own feelings, she seemed
to plead with him to be manly and respect her womanhood.

'Only to say the common things which anyone must say in my position,
but to say them so that you will believe they are not only a form.
The circumstances are so strange. I want to ask you for your help;
my position is perhaps harder than yours and Mr. Mutimer's. We must
remember that there is justice to be considered. If you will give me
your aid in doing justice as far as r am able--'

In fault of any other possible reply he had involved himself in a
subject which he knew it was far better to leave untouched. He could not
complete his sentence, but stood before her with his head bent.

Adela scarcely knew what he said; in anguish she sought for a means of
quitting him, of fleeing and hiding herself among the trees. His accent
told her that she was the object of his compassion, and she had invited
it by letting him see her tears. Of necessity he must think that she was
sorrowing on her own account. That was true, indeed, but how impossible
for him to interpret her grief rightly? The shame of being misjudged by
him all but drove her to speak, and tell him that she cared less than
nothing for the loss that had befallen her. Yet she could not trust
herself to speak such words. Her heart was beating insufferably; all the
woman in her rushed towards hysteria and sell-abandonment. It was well
that Hubert's love was of quality to stand the test of these terrible
mom