out," he said; "but the thing
will be difficult, mother. I see what you mean now, and why you cannot
live with me. I must go to London, or to one of the other big places
where I can find out the truth about such things. Oh, I shall know,
and I will not spare him. Don't be afraid, mother, you shall be
avenged for all he's done to you."

A kind of evil joy flashed from the woman's eyes. "Yes, Paul," she
said presently, "and you are clever, you were the cleverest lad in the
workhouse school. I found out that. You were always ahead with your
lessons, and you are quick with your brains and you are strong. But
remember, he is clever and strong too, and he has much book-learning,
and he knows all about the law, English law especially. You must be
able to meet him on equal terms. You must learn, my boy--you must know
everything. You need not fear for me. I have a place now where I can
live comfortably; but remember, I shall never be happy until either he
sets me and you right before the world, or I have made him suffer all I
have suffered and all you have suffered."

For half an hour more they stood talking, he asking questions, she
answering and explaining. Night had fallen now, but the moon had risen
and made darkness impossible. The mists had cleared away, too, and
patches of blue were to be seen in the sky. Here and there a star
peeped out.

"Good night, Paul," she said at length. "You will write me often,
won't you? Remember, you are the only thing I love on earth."

"You know what I will do," he replied. "Good night, mother."

For a few seconds he held her like a man might hold the maid he loved,
and then, turning, he walked slowly back towards Bodmin, from which
town he intended to take the train to the place where he lived. Mile
after mile he walked, seeming to take no notice of his surroundings.
It might be day, it might be night; it might be summer, it might be
winter, for all he cared. The iron had entered his soul, the poison of
hatred had filled his heart. He loved his mother with a kind of
savage, passionate love, but the man who was his father he hated, and
on him he swore to be revenged. "That is my work in life," he said to
himself; "that is the purpose for which I shall live, and I will do
it--yes, I will do it."

CHAPTER II

PAUL BEGINS HIS WORK

In some senses Paul Stepaside had suffered but little because of his
being a pauper. His education was quite equal to that of