f
he succeeded, then the way was made plain. Not that he liked the idea
altogether, for he had still an instinctive hatred of the man who had
treated him, as he believed, so unfairly. But he must destroy that
hatred now. He must think kindly of the father of the woman who was
all the world to him.

Before the night was over he wrote Judge Bolitho a letter, asking for
his permission to try and win Mary Bolitho for his wife. He did not
refer to the shadow that rested upon his name, told him nothing of what
he had said to Mary. He only told him of his hopes and ambitions, and
of his undying love.

Three days later the answer came, and when Paul read it his heart was
filled with black rage. It contained only a few words, but they seemed
to blot out the sun from his horizon. Without saying so in so many
words, Judge Bolitho treated the proposal made in his letter with
thinly veiled scorn and contempt. He made him feel, although he did
not say so, that what he had said was an impertinence. It was true the
letter was couched in terms of politeness, and yet it might have been
written to a groom who had the temerity to seek his mistress's hand,
and it contained a command that he must never dare to speak to her
again.

Paul was scarcely master of himself as he read, and every evil passion
of his nature was aroused. This man had added insult to injury. Ever
since the day of his trial he had been his enemy, and now he had sent
him this! "But I will speak to her again," he vowed. "I will win her
in spite of everything; by fair means or foul she shall be mine!"

Shortly afterwards he returned to Brunford for the Christmas vacation.
Only a few days were allowed by the leader of the Government, because
much and important business had to be transacted; but those few days
were destined to change the course of Paul Stepaside's life. His
mother met him when he returned to Brunford with unusual manifestations
of affection. He had sent her a copy of the _Times_, wherein was a
full report of his speech. He had also forwarded to her a number of
other papers which had spoken kindly of him, and she was elated beyond
measure at his success. To her Paul was everything, the one object of
her love, the one hope of her life. For him she would brave
everything, suffer everything. In her inmost heart there was only one
thing she desired, and that was Paul's happiness. She had stifled all
thoughts of jealousy when she had learnt