you will be mine!

CHAPTER V

"THE FAR-OFF MUTTERING OF THE STORM TO COME"

"Paul!"

Paul had walked unannounced into his mother's favourite little
sitting-room at Vaux Court, tired and travel-stained. She rose to her
feet and looked at him anxiously.

"Don't be alarmed, mother," he said, stooping down and kissing her.
"There's nothing at all the matter."

"Arthur is well?"

"Quite well; I was with him yesterday afternoon. There's nothing the
matter. London was boring me, that's all, and I thought I'd run down
here and have a look at the old place, and perhaps a day's hunting."

Relieved of her anxiety, Mrs. de Vaux was unaffectedly pleased to see
her eldest son. She was a fine, white-haired old lady, dignified and
handsome, but with very few soft lines about her comely face.

"I am delighted to see you, of course, Paul! The meet is at Dytchley
woods to-morrow! I hope you'll have a good day. Take your coat off. I
have rung for some tea."

"Thanks! How bright and cheerful the fire seems. I walked from the
station, and it was miserably cold."

"Of course it was. I wish I had known you were coming. We have so
little work for the carriage horses."

"I did not make up my mind until half an hour before the train
started," Paul answered. "Dick Carruthers wanted me to run over to
Paris with him for a couple of days, and I was undecided which to do.
I heard that it was cold and wet there, though; and there is always a
charm about this old place which makes me glad to come back to it."

"There is not such another place in England," his mother remarked,
pouring out the tea. "Although this is such an outlandish county,
there have been a dozen people here this week, asking to be allowed
to see over the Abbey. I always give permission when you are away, and
there is no one stopping here."

Paul drank his tea, and stretched himself out in his low chair with an
air of comfort.

"I am glad you let them see the place, mother," he said. "It is only
right. What class of people do you have, as a rule? Clergymen and
ecclesiastical architects, I suppose?"

"Chiefly. There are a good many Americans, though; and yesterday,
or the day before, a Roman Catholic priest. He spent the day in the
cloisters and wandering about the Abbey, I believe."

Paul looked up suddenly, and drew his chair back out of the firelight.
For the first time, his mother noticed how pale and ghastly his face
was.

"Paul, are you ill?" she