to soften them,
gazing vacantly into the weeping eyes before him. His lips quivered, but
he did not speak.

"Paul, speak to me--speak to me--only speak--only let me hear your
voice! See, I am at your feet--your mother kneels to you--forgive her as
God has forgiven her!"

And loosing her grasp, she flung herself on the ground before him, and
covered her face with her hands.

Paul seemed not at first to know what was happening. Then he stooped and
raised his mother to her feet.

"Mother, rise up," he said in a strange, hollow tone. "Who am I that I
should presume to pardon you? I am your son--you are my mother!"

His vacant eyes gathered a startled expression. He glanced quickly
around the room, and said in a deep whisper:

"How many know of this?"

"None besides ourselves."

The frightened look disappeared. In its place came a look of
overwhelming agony.

"But I know of it; oh, my God!" he cried; and into the chair from which
his mother had risen he fell like a wounded man.

Mrs. Ritson dried her eyes. A strange quiet was coming upon her now. Her
voice gathered strength. She laid a hand on the head of her son, who sat
before her with buried face.

"Paul," she said, "it is not until now that the day of reckoning has
waited for me. When you were a babe, and knew nothing of your mother's
grief, I sorrowed over the shame that might yet be yours; and when you
grew to be a prattling child, I thought if God would look into your
innocent eyes they would purchase grace for both of us."

Paul lifted his head. At that moment of distress God had sent him the
gracious gift of tears. His eyes were wet, and looked tenderly at his
mother.

"Paul," she continued, quite calmly now, "promise me one thing."

"What is it?" he asked, softly.

"That if your father should not live to make the will that must
recognize you as his son, you will never reveal this secret."

Paul rose to his feet. "That is impossible. I cannot promise it," he
said.

"Why?"

"Honor and justice require that my brother Hugh, and not I, should be my
father's heir--he, at least, must know."

"What honor, and what justice?"

"The honor of a true man--the justice of the law of England."

Mrs. Ritson dropped her head. "So much for your honor," she said. "But
what of mine?"

"Mother, what do you mean?"

"That if you allow your younger brother to inherit, the world by that
act will be told all--your father's sin, your mother's shame."

Mrs. R