l drenching.

It was late, and my mother was beside my bed. She had some breakfast
for me on a battered tray.

"Don't get up yet, dear," she said. "You've been sleeping. It was
three o'clock when you got home last night. You must have been
tired out."

"Your poor face," she went on, "was as white as a sheet and your
eyes shining. . . . It frightened me to let you in. And you stumbled
on the stairs."

My eyes went quietly to my coat pocket, where something still bulged.
She probably had not noticed. "I went to Checkshill," I said. "You
know--perhaps--?"

"I got a letter last evening, dear," and as she bent near me to put
the tray upon my knees, she kissed my hair softly. For a moment we
both remained still, resting on that, her cheek just touching my
head.

I took the tray from her to end the pause.

"Don't touch my clothes, mummy," I said sharply, as she moved
towards them. "I'm still equal to a clothes-brush."

And then, as she turned away, I astonished her by saying, "You dear
mother, you! A little--I understand. Only--now--dear mother; oh!
let me be! Let me be!"

And, with the docility of a good servant, she went from me. Dear
heart of submission that the world and I had used so ill!

It seemed to me that morning that I could never give way to a gust
of passion again. A sorrowful firmness of the mind possessed me.
My purpose seemed now as inflexible as iron; there was neither love
nor hate nor fear left in me--only I pitied my mother greatly for
all that was still to come. I ate my breakfast slowly, and thought
where I could find out about Shaphambury, and how I might hope to
get there. I had not five shillings in the world.

I dressed methodically, choosing the least frayed of my collars,
and shaving much more carefully than was my wont; then I went down
to the Public Library to consult a map.

Shaphambury was on the coast of Essex, a long and complicated
journey from Clayton. I went to the railway-station and made some
memoranda from the time-tables. The porters I asked were not very
clear about Shaphambury, but the booking-office clerk was helpful,
and we puzzled out all I wanted to know. Then I came out into the
coaly street again. At the least I ought to have two pounds.

I went back to the Public Library and into the newspaper room to
think over this problem.

A fact intruded itself upon me. People seemed in an altogether
exceptional stir about the morning journals, there was something
unus