ped out. There's a train at midnight."

Arthur stood up. "Mother, I am the guilty man. I was the thief. All
these years I've let you believe that Paul had taken the money. . . ."

"Yes, yes!" she interrupted, never taking her eyes off this other son.
"I heard everything behind these curtains. You were going away, Paul,
without seeing me?"

"What was the use of stirring up old matters? Of bringing confusion
into this house?" He did not look at her. He could not tell her that
he now knew what had drawn him hither, that all along he had deceived
himself.

"Paul, my son, I have been a wicked woman."

"Why, mother, you mustn't talk like that!"

"Wicked! My son, my silent, kindly, chivalric boy, will you forgive
your mother? Your unnatural mother?"

He caught her before her knees touched the floor; and, ah! how hungrily
her arms wound about him.

[Illustration: He That Was Dead.]

"What's the use of lying?" he cried brokenly. "My mother! I wanted to
hear your voice and feel your arms. You don't know how I have always
loved you. It was a long time, a very long time. Perhaps I was to be
blamed. I was proud, and kept away from you. Don't cry. There,
there! I can go away now, happy." Over his mother's shoulders, now
moving with silent stabbing sobs, he held out his hand to his brother.
Presently, above the two bowed heads, Warrington's own rose,
transfigured with happiness.

The hall-door opened and closed, but none of them regarded it.

By and by the mother stood away, but within arm's length. "How big and
strong you have grown, Paul."

"In heart, too, mother," added Arthur. "Old Galahad!"

"You must never leave us again, Paul. Promise."

"May I always come back?"

"Always!" And she took his hand and pressed it tightly against her
cheek. "Always! Ah, your poor blind mother!"

"Always to come back! . . . I am going to China in a little while, to
take up the work I have always loved, the building of bridges."

"And I am going, too!" It was Elsa, at her journey's end.

Jealous love is keen of eye. There was death in Arthur's heart, but he
smiled at her. After all, what was more logical than that she should
appear at this moment? Why sip the cup when it might be drained at
once, over with and done with?

"Elsa!" said the mother, holding Warrington's hand in closer grasp.

"Yes, mother. Ah, why did you not tell me all?"

Arthur walked to the long window that opened put upon th