“At least,” said Lewis, after a moment, while his eyes filled with tears, “at least, I will stand up for my mother as long as I can; at least, I will make the best fight for her own good name that I know how. And I tell you, Mr. Skelton, that even--even if I am forced, as you say--to--to--acknowledge it, I’ll never profit by it. This I made up my mind to a long time ago--ever since I first began to wonder--” Skelton knew then that, in the boy’s crude, inexperienced way, he had prepared himself to meet the emergency when it came. Lewis turned to go out of the room, but Skelton called him back and silently drew the boy towards him. He passed his hand over Lewis’s closely cropped black head and rested it fondly on his shoulder, all the time looking into the boy’s eyes with tenderness unspeakable. In that moment a faint stirring of Nature came to Lewis. He began to feel his heart swell towards Skelton with a feeling of oneness. Skelton saw in his troubled, changeful look a new expression. Something like affection quivered in the boy’s face. Skelton bent and kissed him softly on the forehead, and Lewis went out silently. CHAPTER XVIII. Skelton remained in the library to recover his composure. He sat staring, with unseeing eyes, at the fireplace filled with cedar boughs. Pride and intense affection tugged at his heart. Never, in all his life, had his proud spirit so abased itself as before this boy, whom he loved with the concentrated passion of his whole life. He had not sent him to school from the purest softness of heart, because he was not happy with Lewis out of his sight. He had watched over him silently, and at last the barriers of his pride had been swept away by the torrent of his affection; and with what result? He might indeed feel proud of the tenacity with which Lewis had held on to what he thought was his honour; but had not resentment and hatred been planted in his heart by the revelation made prematurely by Skelton’s tenderness? And the idea that the Blairs should ever profit to that boy’s disadvantage--the mere thought enraged him. And Lewis was his own son in many particulars. His promise that he would never profit by his own dishonour was no mere boyish threat. Nothing was more likely than that he should hold to it most steadfastly. After a while Skelton rose and went out into the hall. Under Bridges’ masterly management everything had assumed its usual appearance, and, as the day was singularly cold for the season and the downpour incessant, a little sparkling wood fire had been lighted in the broad fireplace. Skelton went up to it and warmed his hands and chilled feet before the cheerful blaze. He was still in his evening dress, and the daylight, dull as it was, showed plainly certain marks of agitation upon his features. He looked every day of his forty years. Bob Skinny came up in a moment to ask if Skelton would have his breakfast then. “Yes,” he answered briefly. “Where is Mr. Lewis Pryor?”