elieve them. Who did it,
then?"

"And you believe that?"

"Who is Paul trying to shield?" repeated the girl, with almost
monotonous iteration.

For a few seconds a painful silence fell between them, and it was
evident by the look on the face of the elder woman that she was
thinking deeply.

"Do you believe," and her voice was almost hoarse, "do you believe, my
lassie, that Paul is lying in that gaol charged with murder because he
wants to shield me?"

"What else can I believe?" cried Mary. "Tell me the truth. You say
you love your son; if your love is worth anything, you will confess to
the truth!"

Again a painful silence fell between them. The elder woman, who sat up
in bed, seemed to be trying to realise the meaning of the other's
words. She might have been living over the night of the murder again.

Presently she fixed her gaze upon Mary, and the girl saw that the old
mad light was coming back into her eyes again.

"You believe that--that!" she gasped. Her body swayed to and fro for a
moment, and then she fell back on the bed like one dead.

A great fear came into Mary's heart. She believed that Paul's mother,
stricken to the heart by her accusation, and realising the terrible
import of her silence, had been killed by her words. For a moment she
did not know what to do, but, soon overcoming her weakness, she tried
to restore her to life. She put her ear over the heart of the
prostrate form on the bed, and gave a cry of satisfaction. "No; she's
not dead, she's not dead!"

But what could she do? She was there alone in the house with this
unconscious woman. She had little or no knowledge of nursing, and she
did not know how to obtain help. But help she must obtain. This woman
must not die--at least, before she had made her full confession. Even
yet Paul's safety was the great thought in her mind. Nothing seemed to
matter beside that.

There was a sound of footsteps, and she heard Mrs. Bradshaw's voice
asking whether she could do anything. It seemed like Providence that
the woman should have entered at this moment, and eagerly she rushed to
her.

"Mrs. Stepaside is worse!" she cried. "She ought to have a doctor.
Could you run and fetch one?"

"My boy's at home," said Mrs. Bradshaw. "I'll send him up to Dr.
White's house at once. He's the best man in Brunford, and he's
friendly with Paul, too."

"Does he live far away?"

"No, not so far. There are one or two others who live near