d; "morning is coming, the morning is
coming. There's a God in the Heavens after all! And yet, and yet----
Oh, Paul, I forgot, I forgot! Did I tell you that everything could be?
Nothing can be, my boy, nothing! I forgot! I forgot!"

And her voice almost rose to a scream.

"What is it, mother?"

She walked round the room like one demented. "I did not think of
that," she said. "I did not think of that. I thought I had made
everything plain. I thought, I thought, and now----"

"Tell me, mother, tell me!"

"No, I can't tell you. It would kill you--kill you; and I thought
there was a God in the heavens. And there isn't, Paul. There isn't.
Only the Devil lives. Oh, my boy! my boy! But leave me, leave me. I
must think, I must think. There, go away. Don't trouble about me,
Paul. I'm all right, I'm all right. But go away! Go away!" She
pushed him out of the room as she spoke, and locked the door behind him.

"She's right in one thing, at all events," said Paul. "I can do no
good by staying with her, and I had better go to bed. The servants
will be talking, else, and they must know nothing." He threw himself
on the bed, and tried to understand all that had taken place. It
seemed as though something terrible had happened, some dire calamity
had taken place. The world seemed a different place from what it had
been a few hours before. Since meeting with Ned Wilson, that had
happened which had altered the whole course of his life. The very air
seemed laden with terror, the skies were black with doom. It seemed to
him as though ravens were croaking, and the church bell tolling for the
dead; and then, while trying to drive the black scenes of the night
from his mind, it seemed as though his senses became dulled.
Everything became unreal. The past might have been blotted out, even
those years at St. Mabyn were like a dream, while all the events since
were just as a tale that is told. It was simply Nature taking him into
her arms, and rocking him on her broad bosom. His strength had given
way. The events of the night, his home-coming, his mother's strange
behaviour, and the excitement which it all meant had simply worn him
out, and now Nature was trying to restore him. He fell into a deep,
dreamless sleep, and lay like a log upon his bed. How long he slept he
did not know, but presently he heard a sharp knock at the door.

"It's half-past eight o'clock, sir. Are yo noan gettin' up?"

"What?"