in
the lonely farm. For I've had scarcely anyone to speak to. My one
thought and my one comfort has been you! And I've said to myself,
'He's a young man now, and, like all young men, he'll love his lass.'
I'm your mother, Paul, and I think I can see into your heart. Have you
ever spoken to her?"

It seemed as though all the barriers of the past were broken down. He
had thought never to mention his secret to anyone, and yet he found
himself speaking freely.

"Scarcely, mother," he said. And then he told her of the times they
had met, and of what he had said and what she had said. He told her,
too, of the rumours concerning Ned Wilson, and of his hopes to make her
his wife.

"And he's your enemy, too?"

Paul nodded, and his eyes became dark with anger as he thought of the
past.

"Paul," she said at length. "I live only for you now, only for you!
Your enemies are my enemies; your friends are my friends! Those you
love, I love; and those you hate, I hate! Whether you're right or
whether you're wrong, my laddie, I love you!"

"Who ever I love, mother," he said, "it makes no difference between me
and you, and my home must ever be yours."

"Ay, I dinna ken about that," she replied, lapsing into the speech of
her girlhood. "But that doesna matter. Paul, I must see thy lass.
You must find out when next she comes to Brunford, and I must see her.
And you shall have her, too; whatever stands in the way must be
removed!"

A little later he kissed her good-night at her bedroom door, and her
words seemed to him like a prophecy.

CHAPTER IX

THE SHADOWS OF COMING EVENTS

For the next few weeks Paul's life was utterly changed. The coming of
his mother had wrought a transformation, and in a very real sense old
things had passed away, and all things had become new. Each morning he
went to his work with a glad heart, and when the time for returning
came he looked forward to meeting her with a joy unknown to him before.
He had insisted on taking her to Manchester, and, in spite of many
protests, had bought her what she called finery only fit for a lass.
But Paul had taken a peculiar pleasure in this. He loved to see her
eyes sparkle at some unexpected act of kindness on his part, and as day
by day passed away and he marked the improvement in her looks, saw the
lines of care wiped out and an expression of contentment come on her
face, more genial feelings filled his life. As he repeated to himself
ofte