rrible day for them all,
especially for Ruth, and so I sent them off. Besides, we must speak
alone to-night."

"Speak alone, mother? I thought everything was settled. I am weary,
and desire no business to-night. I have had much to do for three days,
and have more to do to-morrow. I must rest."

"There is such a thing as duty as well as pleasure," said my mother
severely. "You are now Trewinion's lord, and surely it is your duty to
care about the happiness of others. Besides, a mother should ever be
able to command her son?"

"Just so, mother," I said wearily. "Tell me what you wish, and I will
do my best to obey you."

"Roger," she said in an altered tone, "you have had the reputation of
being kind-hearted and generous. I know you have often thought me hard
upon you; but if I have been so, it was only from the desire to make
you gentle as well as generous."

I looked upon her in surprise, and in spite of my sorrow my heart
bounded with hope. Perhaps my father's death had destroyed all hard
feelings, and now I should know the meaning of a mother's love.

"Mother," I said, "I have been rough and harsh. I'll try to be a
better son, and perhaps we may be happy in the future."

A sharp spasm, as if of pain, crossed her face, but she spoke naturally.

"It may be," she went on, "that what I shall say may hurt you, but I
only want to be a kind, loving mother."

My heart warmed more than ever. "I am sure that is your desire,
mother," I said.

She was silent for a minute, and again I saw the look of of pain which
crossed her face.

"Roger," she burst out, "what I have to say nearly kills me," and she
burst into a flood of tears.

I went to her side and soothed her.

"Don't grieve, mother," I said, "and don't say anything that will give
you pain."

"No, no, it's not that," she said, and then cried out, "I can't tell
him, I can't."

"Don't, mother," I cried. "Wait until you are stronger, and then tell
me. These few days have been terrible for you. I have been thinking
too much about myself. I have been remembering that I have lost my
father, but have forgotten that you have lost your husband. I know
it's terrible, mother, but dear father is happy now, and Wilfred and I
will take care of you."

At the mention of Wilfred's name her face changed. A look of
determination came upon her face, and her hands clenched nervously.

"Roger," she said, "I am calm now, and hard as it is to tell you I will