ould she
think? Yes, how would she take it? All must be over between them now--
at least, for some years to come.

A servant announced dinner, and he bade him send it back. Locking the
door after him, he sat down in an easy-chair, conscious that several
times there had been knocks at the door, but paying no heed whatever.

Night fell, and he had not moved; and then, in a strange, fitful, dreamy
fashion, the night passed away.

He must have dozed at times, he knew; for his thoughts had wandered off
into dreams, and the dreams had trailed off in turn into thoughts; and
now it was morning, for the grey light was streaming through the antique
casement, and a feint glow overhead told of the rising sun.

He threw open the windows, and the cool morning breeze, fresh from the
Atlantic, seemed to calm and refresh him. His thoughts grew more
collected; and at last he left the window, and went out into the hall,
to seek his bedroom.

A bitter smile crossed his lip as he noticed the luxurious air of wealth
about him, and then a sigh drew his attention to the fact that the cause
of all his agony had been watching at his door the night through, and
was now on her knees stretching out her hands as if in supplication for
pardon.

"Oh, my boy--my boy, what are you going to do," she groaned.

"Do?" he said, bitterly, as she crept to his feet. "Act like the
gentleman you wanted me to be."

"What do you mean, Richard--my son? There, I give up about Polly. I'll
never say another word. You shall do as you like."

"I need not ask you if what you told me yesterday was true," he said,
calmly. "Well, we must make amends."

"How? What do you mean?" she said, starting up.

"Mean? Why, by giving up everything to the rightful owner, and leaving
him possession at once."

"Richard," she cried, passionately, catching him by the arm, "you would
not be so mad."

"I shall be so honest," he said.

"What, give up--give up everything to Humphrey?"

"Everything," he said, coldly, "and at once."

"You're mad--mad!" gasped Mrs Lloyd. "And after all I have done for
you--to make you a gentleman."

"These are its effects," he said, bitterly. "You made me a gentleman--I
wish to act as one."

"But, Richard--think--your father--your old mother--we shall be turned
out in disgrace--to starve," she cried, piteously.

"Mother, I cannot help the disgrace," he said, coldly. "I would save
you if I could, but the disgrace would be great