man, I should
have struck her across the lips.

"I shall remain!" I answered. "I am here to see Mr. de Vaux; I shall
see him! Don't dare to touch me, man!" I added fiercely, as Richards
laid his hand upon my shoulder.

He shrank back hastily. I even believe that he muttered an apology.
Perhaps they saw that I was not to be trifled with, for Lady de Vaux
suddenly changed her tactics.

"Follow me!" she said, sweeping round, with an imperious gesture. "You
shall see my son! You shall hear from his own lips what he thinks of
this--intrusion. Perhaps you will leave the Abbey at his bidding, if
not at mine."

I followed her in silence, carrying myself proudly, but with
fast-beating heart. What would he think of my coming? Would he call
it an intrusion? At any rate he could not be pleased; for even if he
received me kindly, he would have his mother's anger to face. Yet, how
could I have kept away?

We halted, all three of us, before a closed door at the back of the
hall. There was no answer to the man's somewhat ostentatious knock,
and Lady de Vaux, after a moment's waiting, turned the handle of the
door and swept into the room. I kept close behind her.

I can remember it now; I shall always remember it--the dim, peculiar
light which tired our eyes the moment we had stepped inside. It was
easy to discover the reason. The heavy velvet curtains were still
drawn in front of the high windows, and on a distant table a lamp
was only just flickering out. At first it seemed as though the great
chamber was empty. There was no one to be seen, and it was not until
we reached a deep recess at the further end that we discovered Paul.

At the sight of him we both stood still--Lady de Vaux moved in spite
of her stately composure, and I spellbound. He was sitting before an
oak writing desk covered with papers, and in the midst of them his
head was resting upon his bowed arms. He neither spoke nor moved,
nor seemed indeed in any way conscious of our approach. The window
fronting him was, unlike all the others, uncurtained and wide open,
and a flood of sunshine was streaming in upon his bowed head, and
mingling with the sicklier light of the rest of the apartment. It was
a strange and ghastly combination; not only in itself, but in the sort
of halo it seemed to cast around his dark, bowed head. Ah! Paul, my
love, my love! how my heart ached for you!

"He is asleep," Lady de Vaux said fearfully. "Paul!"

I held out my hand to check h