had scarcely divested himself of
his fur overcoat in the corridor, ere the special messenger arrived with
Jessie's letter. He thrust it into his pocket, this sweet missive, to
read at his leisure, murmuring as he did so: "This is neither the time
nor place to learn the contents of my darling's letter. I must be all
alone when I read it."

Thrusting it into his pocket, Varrick hurried quickly to his mother's
_boudoir_. With a great cry of relief she reached out her hand to him.
"Thank God, you are here at last."

The trouble about Jessie Bain had been temporarily bridged over when he
had married Gerelda; yet, ever since, there had been a constraint
between mother and son which she very perceptibly felt.

She had always said to herself that he would never forget Jessie Bain,
and when he became a widower the terror was strong within her that he
would make an attempt to find her.

"Will the girl keep her promise," she asked herself over and over again,
"and never cross his path again?"

It all rested on that. But it weighed heavily on her mind that she had
accused the girl wrongfully, and she told herself that God would surely
take vengeance upon her if she stood at heaven's gate with that sin on
her soul.

In this hour, she must tell Hubert the truth, keeping nothing back. She
would not implicate herself, as that would bring horror into his eyes.
He must never know that she had concocted that plot in order to ruin the
girl.

Hubert greeted his mother with all the old-time boyish, affectionate
ardor and she asked herself how she could tell him the truth--that which
was weighing so heavily on her mind.

She gave a glad cry as he came up to the velvet divan upon which she
reclined, and held out her arms to him.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A MOTHER'S PLEA.

"Hubert, my boy!" she murmured, tremulously.

"Mother!" he answered, embracing her; then, flinging himself on a low
hassock by her side, he caught both of her hands in his and kissed them.

"I am so glad you are come, my son," she breathed--"I am so ill!"

He tried to cheer her with his brave, bright words; but she only smiled
at him faintly, wistfully.

She brought round the subject uppermost in her mind.

"I wonder what has became of Jessie Bain?" she asked, abruptly.

"Why do you ask me, mother?" he replied, evasively, flushing to the
roots of his curling hair--and that blush betrayed to her keen eyes that
he had not as yet lost interest in the girl.