ertheless.

Neither of them spoke for some time. The woman's arms were round her
son, and her cheek close to his, and that was all. She did not sob
convulsively as one would have expected under such circumstances; she
did not cry out in agony, rather she appeared like a dumb, half
lifeless creature, while in her eyes was a look of mute inquiry.

"My poor boy! My poor boy!" she said presently.

"It's all right, mother."

"I thought we'd come to the end of our troubles. I thought the new day
was dawning," she said. "I thought that God was in the heavens after
all, and that He had used me, a poor, weak woman, instead of a strong
man like you. But, oh, Paul, my boy, my boy!"

He did not understand her at all, and he fancied that her mind had
become somewhat unhinged by the experiences through which she had been
passing, but he said nothing. He thought he had better not.

"What is the good of speech?" he reflected. "She loves me. I am
everything to her, and I would not add to her pain for worlds!"

"I tried so hard, Paul," she said presently. "And I thought--no, never
mind what I thought; besides, even now I can say nothing that would----
But oh, my dear, dear boy! When I was a lass on my father's farm
everything seemed hopeful--everything! Of course, I had my
troubles--my stepmother was cruel to me, and she did not understand the
longings and fears of a lass such as I was; but still, I did not
trouble. But ever since, Paul, ever since he came, it seems as though
everything has added to the confusion, to the mystery, to the misery!
I don't know how it is, but it seems as though Almighty God has placed
a curse upon me. Whatever I've done has turned out wrong. I don't
blame you, Paul. No, I don't blame you; but to think--to think----"

"I don't understand, mother." He was obliged to say this, although he
still believed his mother's mind was wandering.

"Of course, you've got your defence?" she said. "You would say nothing
about it at the trials at Brunford, but I know you have something at
the back of your mind. You have, my boy, haven't you?"

His voice was almost grim as he replied, "Yes; I have something at the
back of my mind."

"What maddens me," she went on, "is that everything one does seems to
be so futile--it ends in nothing! I thought I had done that which made
everything plain for you. I thought the sun was going to shine on you
continually, and that the desires of your heart should