low should die."

"I am afraid that she is hard-hearted, Tom."

"I do not believe it, mother. I have seen her when she wouldn't kill
even a fly. If she could only be made to see all the good she could
do."

"I am afraid she won't care for that unless she can bring herself
really to love you."

"Why shouldn't she love me?"

"Ah, my boy; how am I to tell you? Perhaps if you hadn't loved her so
well it might have been different. If you had scorned her--"

"Scorn her! I couldn't scorn her. I have heard of that kind of thing
before, but how is one to help oneself? You can't scorn a friend
just because you choose to say so to yourself. When I see her she is
something so precious to me that I could not be rough to her to save
my life. When she first came it wasn't so. I could laugh at her then.
But now--! They talk about goddesses, but I am sure she is a goddess
to me."

"If you had made no more than a woman of her it might have been
better, Tom." All that was too late now. The doctrine which Lady
Tringle was enunciating to her son, and which he repudiated, is one
that has been often preached and never practised. A man when he is
conscious of the presence of a mere woman, to whom he feels that no
worship is due, may for his own purpose be able to tell a lie to her,
and make her believe that he acknowledges a divinity in her presence.
But, when he feels the goddess, he cannot carry himself before her as
though she were a mere woman, and, as such, inferior to himself in
her attributes. Poor Tom had felt the touch of something divine, and
had fallen immediately prostrate before the shrine with his face to
the ground. His chance with Ayala could in no circumstances have been
great; but she was certainly not one to have yielded to a prostrate
worshipper.

"Mother!" said Tom, recalling Lady Tringle as she was leaving the
room.

"What is it, my dear? I must really go now or I shall be too late for
the train."

"Mother, tell her, tell her,--tell her that I love her." His mother
ran back, kissed his brow, and then left the room.

Lady Tringle spent that evening in Queen's Gate, where Sir Thomas
remained with her. The hours passed heavily, as they had not much
present to their mind with which to console each other. Sir Thomas
had no belief whatever in the journey except in so far as it might
help to induce his son to proceed upon his travels;--but his wife had
been so far softened by poor Tom's sorrows as to hope a littl