her longings and
aspirations had found expression in her child; she had sought, always,
to consider his interests wisely--unselfishly, of course--and leave
him as free to live his own life as though she were not the lonely,
disillusioned woman that she was.

She had never known how early Brace had understood the conditions in
his home--mothers and fathers rarely do. Only once during his boyhood
had Brace ventured upon the subject over which he spent many confused
and silent hours.

When he was fourteen he remarked, in that strained voice that he
believed hid any emotion:

"I say, Mother, a lot of fellows at our school have fathers and
mothers who live apart--most of the fellows side with their mothers!"

These words nearly made Helen ill. She could make no reply. She looked
dumbly at the boy facing her with a new and awful revealment. She
understood that he wanted her to _know_, wanted to comfort her; and
she knew, with terrifying certainty, that she could not deceive
him--she was at his mercy!

She was wise enough to say nothing. But after that she felt his
suddenly acquired strength. It was shown in his tenderness, his
cheerfulness, his companionship, and, thank God! in his silence.

But while Helen gloried in her boy she still was loyal to the
traditions of marriage, and her little world never got behind her
screen. She had divorced her husband because he desired it--then she
went on alone. When her husband died away from home, his body was
brought to her. It had been his last request and she paid all respect
to it with her boy close beside her. And then she forgot--really, in
most cases--the things that she had been remembering. She erected over
her dead husband, not a stone, but a living _unreality_. It answered
the purpose for which it was designed; it made it possible for her to
live rather a full life, be a comrade to her son--a friend indeed--and
to share all his joys and many of his confidences, and to impress upon
him, so she trusted, that he must not sacrifice anything for her.

Why should he, indeed? Had she not interests enough to occupy her? The
sight of a widowed mother draining the life-blood from her children
had always been a dreadful thing to Helen Northrup, and so well had
she succeeded in her determination to leave Brace free that the
subject rarely came into the minds of either.

But Brace's latest move had disturbed Helen not a little. It startled
her, made her afraid, as that remark o