n
window again. "I like to know that you're beautiful anyhow, mother,
all--all over," he said.

There followed a long silence between them. Lady Calmady still knelt by
the bedside. But she drew herself up, rested her elbows on the bed and
clasped her hands under her chin. And as she knelt there something of
proud comfort came to her. For so long she had sickened, fearing the
hour when Richard should begin clearly to gauge the extent of his own
ill-luck; yet, now the first shock of plain speech over, she
experienced relief. For the future they could be honest, she and
he,--so she thought,--and speak heart to heart. Moreover, in his so
bitter distress, it was to her--not to Mary, his good comrade, not to
Roger Ormiston, the Ulysses of his fancy--that the boy had turned. He
was given back to her, and she was greatly gladdened by that. She was
gladdened too by Richard's last speech, by his angry and immediate
repudiation of the bare mention of any personal gain which should touch
her with loss. Katherine's eyes kindled as she knelt there watching her
son. For it was very much to find him chivalrous, hotly sensitive of
her beauty and the claims of her womanhood. In instinct, in thought, in
word, he had shown himself a very gallant, high-bred gentleman--child
though he was. And this gave Katherine not only proud comfort in the
present, but cheered the future with hope.

"Look here, Dickie, darling," she said softly at last, "tell me a
little more about your talk with Dr. Knott."

"Oh! he was awfully kind," Richard answered, turning towards her again,
while his face brightened. "He said some awfully jolly things to me."

The boy put out his hand and began playing with the bracelets on
Katherine's wrists. He kept his eyes fixed on them as he fingered them.

"He told me I was very strong and well made--except, of course, for it.
And that I was not to imagine myself ill or invalidy, because I'm
really less ill than most people, you know. And--he said--you won't
think me foolish, mother, if I tell you?--he said I was a very handsome
fellow."

Richard glanced up quickly, while his colour deepened.

"Am I really handsome?" he asked.

Katherine smiled at him.

"Yes, you are very handsome, Dickie. You have always been that. You
were a beautiful baby, a beautiful little child. And now, every day you
grow more like your father. I can't quite talk about him, my dear--but
ask Uncle Roger, ask Marie de Mirancourt what he was whe