And then he repeated the substance of his conversation with Mat O'Brien. He thought Cyril seemed a little touched, but he merely said: 'I think I need hardly see him at present;' and he added in a low voice, 'Am I in a fit state to see anyone?' 'Perhaps not; but you may not soon have another opportunity, my dear fellow. Will you put aside your feelings and do this thing for my satisfaction? I have given my word to Mr. O'Brien that I will do my best to bring you together, and if you refuse I shall accuse myself of failure.' 'Oh, if you put it in that light, I do not see my way to refuse.' 'Thanks--shall we go together, or would you prefer going alone?' 'I could not bring myself to go alone.' 'Very well, then, I will drive you over in the dogcart. I am no walker, as you know, and perhaps Kester had better go with us;' and to this Cyril made no demur. 'Now I have detained you long enough, and Mrs. Blake will be wearying for you. I will bring the trap round at half-past two.' Cyril nodded, and they went downstairs together. Michael paused for an instant at the drawing-room door: 'Be gentle with her, Blake,' he said, as he grasped his hand. 'What is done cannot be undone;' and then he went down to Kester. Mrs. Blake was still in the same position. The tension of that long waiting had been too much for her, and the old faintness had returned; but when she saw her son she struggled into a sitting posture and stretched out her hands to him as he came slowly, and almost reluctantly, towards her. 'Cyril! my darling Cyril!' Then he took her hand and held it for a moment. 'My boy,' she said a little piteously, 'have you nothing else for your mother?' But he seemed as though he failed to understand her, and when she pointed mutely to the seat beside her, he did not at once seat himself. 'Mother,' he said, still speaking as though the words were difficult to him, 'I have come to tell you that there shall be peace between us.' 'Does that mean you have forgiven me, Cyril?' 'It means that I will do my best to forgive you your share in the ruin of my life--of all our lives.' Then as he stood before her she threw her arms round him with a faint cry; but he gently, very gently, repulsed her. 'Do not let there be any scene; I could not bear it;' and the weariness in his voice made her heart ache still more. 'Mother, I think that we had better never speak of these things again. As far as I am concerned, I will willingly blot out the past from my memory. To-day we must begin afresh--you and I.' His tone made her shiver, and as she looked up in his dark impassive face, and saw the deep-seated melancholy in his eyes, a sort of despair seized her. 'Oh!' she cried passionately, 'can it be my son who speaks? Blot out the past?--that happy past, when we were all in all to each other--when even poverty was delicious, because I had my boy to work for me!' 'I shall work for you still.'