Yet he knew, as he asked the question, that to tell her everything would be a relief to him. He had suffered very deeply, and in all other sufferings but this his mother had been his true confidant and friend. And so, with a little gentle coaxing on her part, as they sat together when the evening meal was concluded, he was induced to tell his tale. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER II. VERNON, THE LOVER. Few people who had only seen Vernon Blythe when in the pursuit of the manly exercises in which most sailors delight, and in which he especially excelled, would have recognised him now as he lay back in his chair, with his delicate profile clearly limned against the evening sky, and a look of abject pain in the eyes that watched the curling wreaths of smoke that ascended from his pipe. There were two distinct sides to this young man’s character, as there are to that of most of us. To the outside world, and in the pursuit of his profession, he was known as one of the most daring, courageous, and undaunted of natures,--a man who did not know what it was to fear danger, to dread a risk, or to leave an insult unavenged. He was brave, imprudent, and hot-headed, but strictly generous and honourable. With his mother, however, and in the sanctity of home, he was a different creature. There his heart rose uppermost, and he became less guarded in his looks and speech. There, as it were, he thought less of his manhood and men friends, and more of himself and his private feelings. And so the secret, which he believed to be entirely his own property, had slipped from him unawares, and become his mother’s. But who can hide a beloved child’s suffering from the eyes of his mother? And Vernon felt glad now that it was so. ‘Do you remember,’ he began presently, and in a lower voice than usual,--‘do you remember, mother, the time after my second voyage, when I had had that touch of Gold Coast fever, and you sent me up to Uncle Vernon’s in Selkirk for three months to recruit?’ ‘Certainly, dear. What of it?’ ‘That was the time that it happened.’ Mrs Blythe almost jumped with surprise. ‘But, good gracious, Vernon, you were too young for anything then! It must be--let me see--quite five years ago. You were not a day over twenty.’ ‘I was old enough, it seems, to love--and to remember,’ he answered quietly. ‘And you have thought of the girl all this time? It appears incredible.’ ‘Nevertheless it is true. But you must not infer from my words that I have been grieving after her all this time. That would be most unfair to Alice Leyton, and it would not be correct. I cannot forget her--I wish I could--but I have ceased to lament the inevitable. Only, it has cast a shadow over my life--which you seem to have perceived, and which I know will be there until I die.’ ‘Oh, my dear boy, you mustn’t say that. Everybody has a love-affair or so before they settle down. Even _I_--dearly as I loved your father--had had several admirers before I met him.’