home he found his mother sitting up for him. She
met him with a look of joy in her eyes. "Paul," she said, "they've
brought me the news."

"What news, mother?" he asked.

"The news of your victory, my son. It's glorious! I little thought
when I saw you first that I should ever live to see such an hour as
this. But what's the matter with you?"

"What should be the matter?" he asked.

"You're as pale as ashes, and you do not look like one who has won a
great victory. What has happened?"

"Oh, never mind," he replied.

"But I must mind, Paul. Something has taken place that has upset you.
Tell me what it is."

Even yet Paul was scarcely master of himself. The words he had heard
still rang in his ears and rankled in his heart. He felt as though all
the joy of the day had been destroyed by what Wilson had said. He
knew, too, that it would become public property by the morrow. There
were those who witnessed the affair who would not be slow in making it
known. Perhaps, too, it would come to his mother's ears in a garbled
fashion, and would wound her more than if he told her himself.

"Has the man Bolitho done anything?" she said. "Or is it your
opponent? Was he terribly cut up because you beat him, Paul?"

"No," he replied. "I've never heard of Bolitho, and as for Boston,
he's a splendid fellow. He took his beating like a man and offered me
his friendship afterwards."

"Then what is it? Is the news I've heard, that Wilson is engaged to
Miss Bolitho, true?"

"Have you heard that?"

"Yes; I have heard it only to-day."

"I wish I had killed him!" he said, and his voice was hoarse and
unnatural.

"What do you mean, Paul? Tell me what has happened."

Had he not been excited beyond measure, he would have told the story in
such a way as to take away the sting from it. As it was, never
dreaming of the results, he related what had taken place, and repeated
the words Wilson had said. No sooner had he spoken, however, than he
was mad with himself for being so unguarded. His mother's face became
drawn with agony. Her eyes shone with a strange light, and he saw her
clench and unclench her hands like one in great pain.

"Did he say that?" she cried. "Did he say that?" And he scarcely
recognised her voice.

"Anyhow, he's suffering for it," said Paul. "Ay, and he shall suffer
for it, too."

"He shall! He shall!" And her voice almost rose to a shriek. "I have
violent blood in my veins, Paul.