"Perhaps it is," he answered. "I have told myself that, too." She held her closed hand upon her heart, as if to crush down its passionate heavings. "Begin as he began," she cried, "and the end will come to you as it came to him. Give it up now--now!" "Give it up!" he repeated after her. "Give it up," she answered, "or give up your whole life, your youth, your hope,--all that belongs to it." She held out her hands to him in a wild, unconsciously theatrical gesture. The whole scene had been theatrical through its very incongruousness, and Murdoch had seen this vaguely, and been more shaken by it than anything else. Before she knew what he meant to do, he approached the table, and replaced the model in its box, the touch of stubborn desperateness on him yet. He carried the case back to the trunk, and shut it in once more. "I'll let it rest a while," he said; "I'll promise you that. If it is ever to be finished by me, the time will come when it will see the light again, in spite of us both." CHAPTER X. CHRISTIAN MURDOCH. As he was turning into the gate of the Works the next morning, a little lad touched him upon the elbow. "Mester," he said, "sithee, Mester,--stop a bit." He was out of breath, as if he had been running, and he held in his hand a slip of paper. "I thowt I should na ketch thee," he said, "tha'rt so long-legged. A woman sent thee that," and he gave him the slip of paper. Murdoch opened and read the words written upon it. "If you are Stephen Murdoch's son, I must see you. Come with the child." There was no signature--only these words, written irregularly and weakly. He had never met with an adventure in his life, and this was like an episode in a romance. "If you are Stephen Murdoch's son, I must see you." He could scarcely realize that he was standing in the narrow, up-hill street, jostled by the hands shouting and laughing as they streamed past him through the gates to their work. And yet, somehow he found himself taking it more coolly than seemed exactly natural. This morning, emotion and event appeared less startling than they would have done even the day before. The strange scene of the past night had, in a manner, prepared him for anything which might happen. "Who sent it?" he asked of the boy. "Th' woman as lodges i' our house. She's been theer three days, an' she's getten to th' last, mother says. Con tha coom? She's promist me a shillin' if I browt thee." "Wait here a minute," said Murdoch. He passed into the works and went to Floxham. "I've had a message that calls me away," he said. "If you can spare me for an hour----" "I'll mak' out," said the engineer. The lad at the gate looked up with an encouraging grin when he saw his charge returning. "I'd loike to mak' th' shillin'," he said.