himself bitterly for his
selfishness. 'I am making you wretched, and you are an angel of
goodness!' he cried remorsefully. 'But you must forgive me, darling;
indeed, I am not myself.'

'Do you think I do not know that?'

'A braver man than I might shrink from such a future. What have I done
that such a thing should happen to me? I loved my work, and now it is
taken from me; as far as I know, I may have to dig for my bread.'

'No, no!' she returned, holding him fast; for this was more than she
could bear to hear--that the bright promise of his youth was blasted and
destroyed. 'Cyril, if you love me, as you say you do, will you promise
me two things?'

He looked at her a little doubtfully.

'If I love you!' he said reproachfully.

'Then I will alter my sentence, I will say, because of your love for me,
will you grant me these two things? Cyril, you must forgive your mother.
However greatly she has erred, you must remember that it was for your
sake.'

'I do remember it.'

'And you will be good to her?'

Then, his face became very stern.

'I will do my duty to her. I think I may promise you that.'

'Dearest, I do not doubt it. When have you ever failed in your duty? But
I want more than that: you must try so that your heart may be softer to
her; you are her one thought; with all her faults, I think no mother
ever loved her son so well. It is not the highest love, perhaps, since
she has stooped to deceit and wrong for your sake; but, Cyril, it is not
for you to judge her.'

'Perhaps not; but how am I to refrain from judging her? To me truth is
the one absolute virtue--the very crown and chief of virtues. That is
why I first loved you, Audrey--because of your trustworthiness. But now
I have lost my mother--nay, worse, she has never existed!'

'I do not quite understand you.'

'Do you think my mother--the mother I believed in--could have acted this
life-long lie? Would she have worn widows' weeds, and utterly forsworn
herself? No; with all her faults, such crooked ways would have been
impossible. Audrey, you must give me time to become acquainted with this
new mother. I will not be hard to her, if I can possibly help it;
but'--here the bitterness of his tone betrayed his deep agony--'she can
never be to me again what she has been.'

'Then I will not press you any more, Cyril. I have such faith in you,
that I believe you will come through even this ordeal; but there is
something more I must ask you: Will yo