“What is it?” asked Anthony, who felt her trouble. “Our son,” she answered, and showed him all the tale, or so much of it as he did not know, ending, “And I chose to leave him that I might take my chance of finding you. I died when I might have lived on if I had so willed. That is my sin and it haunts me.” “We are not the parents of his soul, which is as ancient as our own, Barbara.” “No, but for a while it was given into my hand and I deserted it, and now I am afraid. How can I tell what has chanced to the soul of this son of ours? Here there is no time. I know not if I bade it farewell yesterday or ten thousand years ago. Long, long since it may have passed through this world, where it would seem we dwell only with those whom we seek or who seek us. Or it may abide upon the earth and there grow foul and hateful. Let us search out the truth, Anthony. There are those who can open its gates to us if the aim be pure and good.” “After I died, Barbara, I strove to learn how things went with you, and strove in vain.” “Not altogether, Anthony, for sometimes you were very near to me, or so I dreamed. Moreover, the case was different.” “Those who search sometimes find more than they seek, Barbara.” “Doubtless. Still, it is laid on me. Something drives me on.” So by the means appointed they sought to know the truth as to this son of theirs, and it was decreed that the truth should be known to them. In a dream, a vision, or perchance in truth—which they never knew—they were drawn to the world that they had left, and the reek of its sins and miseries pierced them like a spear. They stood in the streets of London near to a certain fantastic gateway that was familiar to them, the gateway of “The Gardens.” From within came sounds of music and revelling, for the season was that of summer. A woman descended from a carriage. She was finely dressed, dark and handsome. Barbara knew her at once for the girl Bess Catton, who alone could control her son in his rages and whom she had dismissed for her bad conduct. She entered the place and they entered with her, although she saw them not. Bess sat down, and presently a man whom she seemed to know drew out of the throng and spoke to her. He was a tall man of middle age, with heavy eyes. Looking into his heart, they saw that it was stained with evil. The soul within him lay asleep, wrapped round with the webs of sin. This man said: “We are going to have a merry supper, Bess. Come and join us.” “I’d like to well enough,” she answered, “for I’m tired of my grand life; it’s too respectable. But suppose that Anthony came along. He’s my lawful spouse, you know. We had words and I told him where I was going.” “Oh, we’ll risk your Anthony! Forget your marriage ring and have a taste of the good old times.” “All right. I’m not afraid of Anthony, never was, but others are. Well, it’s your look-out.”