"Mother," he said, turning toward her a face white with anguish, "in Heaven's name, never mention love or marriage to me again or I shall go mad. I shall never bring a bride here." "He has had a quarrel with Pluma," she thought. "Rex," she said, placing her hands on his shoulders and looking down into his face, "tell me, has Pluma Hurlhurst refused you? Tell me what is the matter, Rex. I am your mother, and I have the right to know. The one dream of my life has been to see Pluma your wife; I can not give up that hope. If it is a quarrel it can be easily adjusted; 'true love never runs smooth,' you know." "It is not that, mother," said Rex, wearily bowing his head on his hands. Then something like the truth seemed to dawn upon her. "My son," she said, in a slight tone of irritation, "Pluma wrote me of that little occurrence at the lawn fête. Surely you are not in love with that girl you were so foolishly attentive to--the overseer's niece, I believe it was. I can not, I will not, believe a son of mine could so far forget his pride as to indulge in such mad, reckless folly. Remember, Rexford," she cried, in a voice fairly trembling with suppressed rage, "I could never forgive such an act of recklessness. She should never come here, I warn you." "Mother," said Rex, raising his head proudly, and meeting the flashing scorn of her eyes unflinchingly, "you must not speak so; I--can not listen to it." "By what right do you forbid me to speak of that girl as I choose?" she demanded, in a voice hard and cold with intense passion. Once or twice Rex paced the length of the room, his arms folded upon his breast. Suddenly he stopped before her. "What is this girl to you?" she asked. With white, quivering lips Rex answered back: "She is my wife!" The words were spoken almost in a whisper, but they echoed like thunder through the room, and seemed to repeat themselves, over and over again, during the moment of utter silence that ensued. Rex had told his pitiful secret, and felt better already, as if the worst was over; while his mother stood motionless and dumb, glaring upon him with a baleful light in her eyes. He had dashed down in a single instant the hopes she had built up for long years. "Let me tell you about it, mother," he said, kneeling at her feet. "The worst and bitterest part is yet to come." "Yes, tell me," his mother said, hoarsely.