He rested his arms on the back of the chair, and laid his head on the support thus made. This attitude brought vividly back to his mother’s mind the days of his childhood and youth, when he had been all her own. How often had she seen him thus, when he had been guilty of some youthful fault or folly, and was penitent, yet half-afraid he should not easily find pardon! Mrs. Desfrayne’s heart was irresistibly drawn toward her boy. With a soft, gentle touch, she laid one of her white, jeweled hands on his head. “Do you speak of me?” she asked. “Ah! Paul, it is ten thousand pities that, having committed this fatal mistake, you did not confide in me before. What a miserable future is before you; but you must not give way. It must be borne. I do not reproach you. Nay, I will give you such comfort as I can.” Paul caught her hands, and covered them with kisses. “Would that I had--would that I had told you, mother!” he cried, looking up into her face with his open, candid eyes, from which some of the black care had melted. “That terrible secret has stood between me and you like some malignant black specter.” “I dimly felt its presence now and again,” said his mother, “though I could not believe it possible you could deceive me. But tell me, what do you mean to do?” “Nothing. What can I do?” “True.” “As for this young lady, why, I am sorry she will be driven to think ill of me; but any explanation would be clearly impossible. She will have a handsome fortune in any case, and probably marry some one infinitely more to her taste than I should be. In two or three days my leave of absence expires, and I go to rejoin my regiment near Gloucester.” “I no sooner see you again than you are snatched away. It is hard, Paul.” “Just at this juncture perhaps it will be better for me to be out of your way. You will think more kindly of your absent son and his faults and follies than you might of----” “Come. Let us put away that painful subject, and not recur to it unless necessary. Of course, it is of no earthly use your giving another thought to this Miss Turquand.” “I think it would be as well to confide my exact position to the lawyer who drew up the will, and who introduced me to the young lady yesterday evening--Amberley. I think I mentioned his name to you. He might be able to give me a dispassionate word of advice.” Mrs. Desfrayne considered. “You see, my dearest mother, he would be able to look at the matter from a mere business point of view, as he has no interest in the affair.” “Perhaps,” Mrs. Desfrayne slowly said, “it might be as well to consult him. I think I have met him at Lady Quaintree’s. Yes, it would perhaps be best to speak to him about your most unhappy position.”