cesses. But,
having lived in a past world where her perceptions had been made keen and
vital, Margaret Moffatt understood what she saw. She had noticed every
letting down and abandonment of Travers since he had joined them. She was
too wise not to know the effect of such a woman as Priscilla upon such a
man; such a denied and almost puritanical man as Travers. She knew his
story from her father. An artistic triumph was hers that night. The
splendid elements of primitive justice had been set in motion, and almost
gleefully she wondered what they would do with Richard Travers and
Priscilla Glynn.

For herself? Well, she had put herself to the test and had come out
clear-visioned and glad to a point of dangerous excitement. Only two or
three mighty things mattered, if one were to gain in the marvellous game.
She meant to hold to them and let the rest go!

But Travers had not passed through Ledyard's school and come out
untouched. After leaving Priscilla, silent and white, he had gone to his
room and flung himself down upon a low couch by the window. Then his old
self took him in hand while he stubbornly resisted every attack that
reason, as trained by Ledyard, made upon him.

"Think of--your mother! What has she not done and suffered that you might
stand before the world--a free man? And your profession; your future!
They are all your mother holds to for her peace and joy. And I? Well, I
do not claim anything for myself; but you know the game as well as I. If
you toss to the winds all that has been gained for you, professionally
and socially, you are done for! Your renunciation and restraint, what
have they amounted to, unless you accept them as stepping-stones and
go--on?"

And then Travers clenched his hands and had his say.

In that moment his own mother rose clear and radiant beside him and made
her appeal. She pleaded for justice, but she showed mercy. He must not
forget or forego anything that had been gained for him; but he was her
child, the child of her love--unasking, unfettered love--and the passion
that was throbbing in him was pure and instinctive; he must not deny it
or the rest would be shucks! Non-essentials must not hamper him. Alone,
unsought, a strange and compelling force had made him captive. All that
others, and himself, had achieved for him must make holy this simple but
all-powerful desire.

Then she faded, that poor, little, half-forgotten mother! But she left,
like the fragrance of rare flo