l the pomp and ceremony which might attend the
marriage of a king. She had come to him trustful and innocent, and
he--he---- No, he did not attempt to deny it; he would not. What the
future had in store for him he did not know, he did not care. But that
was not the great thing that oppressed him, that crushed his power of
thinking, that made the heavens black with the thunder of the clouds of
God. It was that Paul Stepaside was his son! He had always admired
him, even while he was angry with him; and he was his son! That very
day he had sat in judgment upon him--that very day even he had helped
to forge a chain which would bind him to the scaffold--and he was his
son! Presently he spoke aloud, and his voice was almost natural again.

"And so you have lived at Brunford," he said, "and kept house for him?
I've heard it is a beautiful home."

"Ay, my boy always loved me--always!"

"And, of course, you hate me, Jean?"

"How can I do otherwise?" she asked. "Nay, that word is too weak to
express what I feel towards you! How can it be otherwise?"

"I quite understand," said Judge Bolitho.

"Are you going to make no defence?" said the woman. "Are you going to
bring up some little tale to excuse yourself? Are you going to try and
manufacture a few lies?"

"No," he replied. "None of these things. I can't think to-night,
Jean. You must think my conduct very strange. I simply can't think!
It will be all real to me in a few hours. You know what these
Manchester fogs are, don't you? You know that sometimes you get lost
in them. You cannot recognise the street in which you were born and
reared. Everything is blotted out. Then presently, when the fog has
rolled away--everything becomes clear. Perhaps that is what it will be
with me by and by, but now I simply cannot think. I do not blame you
in the slightest degree. It's just that you should hate me! It's just
that I should suffer! Is there nothing more you wish to say to me?"

"Not now," said the woman.

"I do not ask you to forgive me; you cannot do that. It's not to be
expected."

"But what are you going to do?" she asked.

"I do not know. I cannot tell yet. When my mind gets clear I shall
understand. But I seem to be falling and falling and falling into a
bottomless abyss just now."

"You don't expect me to keep quiet?"

"I expect nothing."

"You do not ask me to be merciful to you?"

"I do not ask anything. I've no right to expect