'and make our marriage public.' And I have never seen you since, until
to-day! But now my hour has come!"

Usually Judge Bolitho was a man of resource. He seldom lost possession
of his power to act wisely. He was seldom taken at a disadvantage. He
was cool and daring. But now he seemed to have lost the _sang froid_
for which he was so noted.

"Jean! Jean!" he said again and again.

"Yes, Jean," replied the woman. "The girl you deceived! The girl you
married and then deserted! The woman whose life you have blighted and
ruined! I had almost given up believing in God; but now--now--faith
may come back to me; but it's only a faith inspired by hatred!"

"You hate me, then?" he said.

"Is it possible to do anything else?" she replied.

"Wait a minute," he said. "Let me think. I shall be able to speak
connectedly presently. For a moment I've lost hold of things. Yes,
yes; I don't deny anything; but wait a minute! What have you done with
yourself all these years, Jean?"

"Done with myself? What could I do? I was almost without a penny. A
few months after you left me my father drove me from home. I was in
disgrace, and only hell seemed to gape at my feet!"

"But you're here," he said in a dazed kind of way. "You're well
clothed. This cottage, though poor, shows a degree of comfort. You're
not penniless, then? Have--have you married--again?"

The woman started back from him at these words, and lifted her hand as
if to strike him.

"Douglas Graham," she said, "do not drive me too far!"

"But how have you been supported all these years? What have you done?"

"You know! You know!" she almost screamed.

"I know nothing," was his reply. "Where have you lived? Where do you
live now? Is this your home, or are you only staying here temporarily?"

He seemed to be trying, in a confused sort of way, to understand how
things stood. Evidently the shock of meeting her, after all the long
years, had wellnigh unbalanced his mind.

"But don't you know? You must know! No; it may be that you don't,"
and the woman laughed like one in glee. "Then I will tell you," she
said. "I am Paul Stepaside's mother, and Paul Stepaside is your son!"

The man gave a gasp as if for breath. His body swayed to and fro as
though he found it difficult to stand upright. Then a hoarse cry
escaped him:

"Paul Stepaside my son!"

"Ay, your son," replied the woman. "Yes, I have read what the man said
this morning.