away from the court had that been possible.
"Mrs. Orme is to be with me," she said.

Then again there came a black frown upon his brow,--a frown such as
there had often been there of late. "And will Mrs. Orme's presence
make the attendance of your own son improper?"

"Oh, no; of course not. I did not mean that, Lucius."

"Do you not like to have me near you?" he asked; and as he spoke he
rose up, and took her hand as he stood before her.

She gazed for a moment into his face while the tears streamed down
from her eyes, and then rising from her chair, she threw herself on
to his bosom and clasped him in her arms. "My boy! my boy!" she said.
"Oh, if you could be near me, and away from this--away from this!"

She had not intended thus to give way, but the temptation had been
too strong for her. When she had seen Mrs. Orme and Peregrine
together,--when she had heard Peregrine's mother, with words
expressed in a joyful tone, affect to complain of the inroads which
her son made upon her, she had envied her that joy. "Oh, if it could
be so with me also!" she always thought; and the words too had more
than once been spoken. Now at last, in this last moment, as it might
be, of her life at home, he had come to her with kindly voice, and
she could not repress her yearning.

"Lucius," she said; "dearest Lucius! my own boy!" And then the tears
from her eyes streamed hot on to his bosom.

"Mother," he said, "it shall be so. I will be with you."

But she was now thinking of more than this--of much more. Was it
possible for her to tell him now? As she held him in her arms, hiding
her face upon his breast, she struggled hard to speak the word. Then
in the midst of that struggle, while there was still something like a
hope within her that it might be done, she raised her head and looked
up into his face. It was not a face pleasant to look at, as was that
of Peregrine Orme. It was hard in its outlines, and perhaps too manly
for his age. But she was his mother, and she loved it well. She
looked up at it, and raising her hands she stroked his cheeks. She
then kissed him again and again, with warm, clinging kisses. She
clung to him, holding him close to her, while the sobs which she had
so long repressed came forth from her with a violence that terrified
him. Then again she looked up into his face with one long wishful
gaze; and after that she sank upon the sofa and hid her face within
her hands. She had made the struggle, but it ha