gally, you know; wanted it so much that she--" there
was a silence in the studio; "that she was glad to die, to make it
possible." He paused, and Mary Houghton saw his cheek twitch. "Well, I
felt that clinched it. I felt I _must_ carry out her wish, and ask Mrs.
Dale to--marry me."

"Morbid," said Henry Houghton.

Edith, listening, said nothing; but she was ready to spring!

"Perhaps it was morbid," Maurice said; "but just at first it seemed that
way to me. Then I began to realize that what poor Nelly wanted, wasn't
to have me marry Lily--that was only a means to an end; she wanted Jacky
taken care of"; (Edith nodded.) "And she thought marrying his mother was
the best way to do that." (Edith shook her head.)

"Well; I thought it all over ... I kept myself and my own feelings out
of it." Behind those laconic words lay the weeks of struggle, of which
even these good friends could have no idea! Weeks in which, while Mercer
was deciding what he ought to do, Maurice, "keeping himself out of it,"
had put aside ambition and smothered taste, and thrown over, once for
all, personal happiness. As a wrestler strips from his body all
hampering things, so he had stripped from his mind every instinct which
might interfere with a straight answer to a straight question: "What
will be best for my boy?" He gave the answer now, in Henry Houghton's
studio, while Edith, over in the shadows, at the piano, looked at him.
Her face was quite pale.

"So all I had to do," said Maurice, "was to think of Jacky's welfare.
That made it easier to decide. I find," he said, simply, "that you can
decide things pretty easily if you don't have to think of yourself. So I
said, 'If I marry Lily, though Jacky couldn't be taken away from me,
physically, spiritually'--you know what I mean, Mrs. Houghton?--'he
might be removed to--to the ends of the earth!' I might lose his
affection; and I've got to hold on to _that_, at any cost, because
that's how I can influence him." He was talking now entirely to Edith's
mother, and his voice was harsh with entreaty for understanding. He
didn't care very much whether Henry Houghton understood or not. And of
course Edith could never understand! But that this serene woman of the
stars should misjudge him was unbearable. "You see what I mean, Mrs.
Houghton, don't you? I know Lily;--and I know that if she thought I had
any _right_ to say how he must be brought up, it would mean nothing but
perfectly hideous controversies