denote: Alden's Decision]

It was evident, then, that he was going away. Very well, she would go
too. And when Alden had found his woman with the red hair, she would
come back, alone--of course they would not want her.

She felt suddenly lonely, as though she had lived too long. For the
first time, she forgot to light the candles on the mantel when the room
became too dark to see. She had sat alone in the darkness for some time
when she heard Alden's step outside.

When he came in, he missed the accustomed lights. "Mother!" he called,
vaguely alarmed. Then, again: "Mother! Where are you, Mother dear?"

"I'm here," she responded, rising from her chair and fumbling along the
mantel-shelf for matches. "I'm sorry I forgot the candles." The mere
sound of his voice had made her heart leap with joy.

He was muddy and tired and his face was very white. "I know it's late,"
he said, apologetically, "and I'll go up to dress right now. I--I've
decided to--stay."

His voice broke a little on the last word. Madame drew his tall head
down and kissed him, forgetting all about the crystal ball. "For your
own sake?" she asked; "or for mine?"

[Sidenote: An Unfair Advantage]

"For yours, of course. I'll try to do as you want me to, Lady Mother. I
have nothing to do but to make you happy."

For answer, she kissed him again. "I must dress, too," she said.

When they met at dinner, half an hour later, neither made any reference
to the subject that had been under discussion. Outwardly all was calm
and peaceful, as deep-flowing waters may hide the rocks beneath. By the
time coffee was served, they were back upon the old footing of
affectionate comradeship.

Afterward, he read the paper while Madame played solitaire. When she
turned the queen of hearts, she remembered the red-haired woman whom she
had seen in the crystal ball. And they were not going away, after all!
Madame felt that she had in some way gained an unfair advantage over the
red-haired woman. There would be no one, now, to take her boy away from
her.

And yet, when the time came for her to go, would she want Alden to live
on in the old house alone, looking after the hated vineyard and teaching
the despised school? At best, it could be only a few years more.

Feeling her grave, sweet eyes upon him, Alden looked up from his paper.
"What is it, Mother?"

"Dear," she said, thoughtfully, "I want you to marry and bring me a
daughter. I want to hold your son in my arms b