be gratified.
And now I find I'm a fool. Almighty God laughs at me--just laughs at
me! I've done and suffered in vain. But, of course, you'll clear
yourself?"

Again the young man looked at his mother steadily. What did she mean
by this--"Of course, you'll clear yourself"?

"It will be very difficult," he could not help saying.

A look of terror came into her eyes. "But not impossible, Paul. No, I
see you mean that you'll get out of it. You're so clever. You can see
your way out of things which to other people would be impossible.
You've got your plans all made, haven't you?" And she looked at him
with a mad light in her eyes.

"Yes," he replied with a sigh; "I have my plans all made."

"Someone told me that you refused to have anyone to defend you. Better
so, Paul, better so. You're cleverer than any of these barrister men,
'King's Counsels,' I think they call themselves. If you got one of
them to defend you you'd have to tell them too much, and you mustn't do
that. You know what to say, what not to say, what to tell and what to
keep back. It'll be very hard for you, Paul, but I can trust you.
You're my own brave, clever lad. About that knife, Paul, I think I can
help you."

Still he did not understand her. She seemed to be talking riddles.

"George Preston said that no one was near your office, Paul. As you
know, I was there, and I saw the knife lying on your desk. Paul, Paul,
let me confess to it! After all, it doesn't matter about me. Let me
confess to it, so that you can go free--I will if you like. I don't
mind the shame, I don't mind the disgrace. Let people say it was his
mad mother, let them say----"

"No, no, mother." His voice became harsh and almost unnatural as he
spoke. "No, mother, not you. Whatever is borne, I will bear it. You
needn't fear. My business affairs are all arranged satisfactorily;
even while I'm lying here, money is being made. The contracts I made
were good, and Preston is an honest, capable fellow; and you can live
on at the old house, mother."

He hardly knew what he was saying, so great was the terror which filled
his heart and life. His mother had practically confessed to him the
thing he feared, but he was not angry with her. Instead, his heart was
filled with a great yearning pity. Oh, what she must have suffered!
the agonies through which she must have passed; and it was all for him,
all for him. He would a thousand times rather plead "Guilt