t had happened to him. The six months in
Strangeways Gaol seemed but a horrible dream. The struggles of the
past were far behind. He, while yet but a youth, had succeeded beyond
all expectations, and, added to all this, his mother was coming to live
with him; and for the first time in his life he would have a home!

No youth waiting for his sweetheart was ever more impatient than Paul.
He was angry that the train was late, and wondered why the porters
could be so indifferent about it. He had all sorts of fears, too,
concerning his mother's welfare. Had she been able to catch the
connection at Bristol and Manchester? Had some accident happened?
Presently the signal fell, and a little later the train swept into the
station. There were but few people present, because it was late, and
it happened to be a wet day. Eagerly he looked at the carriage
windows, and then suddenly he felt as though his heart were too great
for his bosom. He saw a lonely, tired-looking woman step from the
carriage and look expectantly round. "Mother!" he cried. "My dear,
dear mother!" And then the sad-eyed, weary woman laid her head on his
broad shoulder and sobbed for very joy.

A little later Paul and his mother were riding through the now silent
streets of Brunford towards his new home. A strange feeling possessed
his heart, for while he knew that the woman who sat by his side was his
mother, she was a stranger to him. His heart had gone out to her with
a great rush of pity and love when she first stepped from the train,
but now that they were alone in the darkness it seemed as though his
lips were sealed. He had nothing to say to her, and she, wellnigh
overcome by her long, weary journey and her new experiences, seemed
almost afraid. This was no wonder, for the situation was strange. She
had left her boy at the workhouse when he was but an infant in arms.
It had almost broken her heart to do this, but she felt that for Paul's
sake it would be better for her to go away, better that he should not
know of the sadness of his mother's life. And for seventeen years she
had kept away from him. It is true she had made inquiries concerning
his life at St. Mabyn, but very little more. Paul had grown up with
the idea that he was fatherless and motherless, or even if that were
not the case he knew nothing about either of them. Then, presently,
when the time came for her to tell him the miserable story of the past,
she had written aski