Audrey was conscious that her manner was cold, and that her voice was hardly as sympathetic as usual. She was sure Mrs. Blake noticed it, for her eyes filled with tears. 'Oh, how coldly you speak! My poor boy has indeed offended you deeply. Oh, I know everything; he was too unhappy last night to hide it any longer from his mother. Do you know what he said to me?--that with all his strength he could not bear it, and that he must go away.' 'Go away--leave Rutherford?' 'Yes;' and now the tears were streaming down her face, and her voice was almost choked with sobs. 'He said he must give it up, and that we must all go away--that the effort is killing him, and that no man could bear such an ordeal. Oh, Miss Ross'--as Audrey averted her face--'I know you are sorry for him; but think what it was for his mother to stand by and hear him say such things. My boy--my brave, noble-hearted boy, who has never given me an hour's pain in his life!' 'And you have sent for me to tell me this?' There was something proud, almost resentful, in Audrey's tone. 'Yes; but you must not be angry with me. I think that, if Cyril knew that I was betraying him, he would never give me his confidence again. Last night I heard him walking about his room, and I went up to him. He wanted to send me away, but I would not go. I knelt down beside him and put my arms round his neck, and told him that I had found out his secret. It had come to me with a sudden flash as I sat beside him in chapel last Sunday. You passed up the aisle, and I saw his face, and then I knew what ailed him. And in the darkness I whispered in his ear, "My poor boy, you love Audrey Ross!"' Audrey put up one hand to shield her face, but she made no remark. She must hear it all; she had brought this misery upon them, and she must not refuse to share it. 'He owned it then. I will not tell you what he said; it must be sacred between my boy and me. Oh, you do not know him! His nature is intense, like mine; he takes nothing easily. When he says that it is killing him by inches, and that we must go away, I know he is speaking the truth. How is he to live here, seeing you every day, and knowing that there is no love for him in your heart? How could any man drag out such a hopeless existence?' 'Such things are done every day.' Audrey hardly knew what she was saying. A dull pain seemed to contract her heart; he was going away. Somehow, this thought had never occurred to her. 'Yes, but not by men of Cyril's nature. He is strong, but his very strength seems to make him suffer more keenly. If he stayed here, people would begin to talk; he would not always be able to hide what he felt. He thinks he ought to go away for your sake. "I am giving her pain now, and by and by it will be worse"--those were his very words.' 'I think it would be braver to stay on here. Will you tell him so, Mrs. Blake?'