ver had the heart to send Humphrey
away, but treated him well. Send him away now--give him money to go
away. He'll soon forget Polly. You must many her; and Richard--say a
kind word to me," she whispered, softening, "kiss me once--once only, my
boy--your mother--before she goes back to be your servant, and to hold
her peace for ever."

She crept closer to him, as he stood staring straight away, her thin
hands rested on his shoulders, and she gazed up into his eyes, with her
face working and growing strangely young, even as his tinned old.

"Dick, my darling, handsome son, kiss me--once only. And you'll marry
her, won't you, and make her happy? One kiss, my own boy."

She uttered a hoarse cry, for he looked down at her with a look of
loathing, and thrust her away.

"Mother? No!" he cried. "I can't call you that. Woman, you thought to
bless me, and what you have done comes upon me like a curse. Don't
touch me. Don't come near me. Take away your hands. I cannot bear
it."

She clung to him; but he tore her hands away, and pushed her from him.

"Dick," she cried, throwing herself on her knees to him, and embracing
his knees. "Your mother. One loving word."

"I can't," he gasped--"I can't. It is too much. An impostor--a
pretender; and now to be an outcast! My God! what have I done that I
should suffer this? Oh, Tiny! My love--my love!"

Those last words seemed torn from his breast in a low, hoarse whisper,
as, breaking from the prostrate woman, he rushed away, right into the
woods--the undergrowth bending and snapping as he passed on; till, with
a groan of despair, he threw himself upon the earth, and lay there, in
the deep shade, with his face buried in his hands.

Volume 2, Chapter XIX.

WITH THE OWNER.

How long Richard lay there he did not know. To him, it seemed like a
year of torment, during which, in a wildly fevered state, he went over,
again and again, the narrative he had heard; tried to find a flaw in it,
but in vain. It was too true--too circumstantial; and at last, in a
dazed, heavy way, he raised his haggard face, with his hair roughened,
and wrinkled brow, to see Humphrey sitting upon a fallen tree by his
side.

"Ah, Humphrey," he said, in a calm, sad voice. "How long have you been
there?"

"Ever since, sir," said the young man. "I followed you."

"Then you heard?"

"Every word, sir. I couldn't help it, though. I didn't want to
listen."

Richard bowed his head, and