The woman looked searchingly at his face, and knew by its extreme pallor and the tremor of his lips that he was much wrought upon. "Paul," she said. "This is Wilson's doing!" "Is it?" he said, with an uneasy laugh. "Well, he shall pay for it, anyhow!" "I was right, then. It's true. Has he beaten you?" "No, mother," he said. "I'm not to be beaten by Wilson." "You shall not! You shall not!" And her voice was hoarse. "Tell me, Paul, tell me. What is it? I must know--I will know!" "Very well," he said. "If you will know, come into my study." And then he described the scene which had taken place. The woman fixed her eyes upon him, and kept them fixed all the time he was speaking. Her face never moved a muscle, although her hands clenched and unclenched themselves nervously. "And you'll pay him out for this?" she said at length, when he had finished his story. "Yes," he said, "he shall be paid out." "But how? Tell me, Paul?" "I have not quite made up my mind yet, mother. I must sleep on it." "Sleep on it!" And there was an intensity in her tones which almost frightened him. "Sleep on it--sleep on it! Will you let a man like that get the better of you? Will you have a wound like that--a wound, the marks of which you'll carry to your grave, and then say you'll sleep on it? Paul, you're chicken-hearted." "No," he replied. "I'm not chicken-hearted; but whatever is done, mother, I must save Mary Bolitho's name from being dragged into the mire. But you need not fear." For an hour or more they talked, the woman asking questions, and Paul answering them. "Come," said his mother presently, "you'll be wanting some supper!" "No," he said. "I want no supper, but I think I want to be alone, mother. I have a great deal to think about." "I wish you'd let me do your thinking for you, Paul." And Paul almost shuddered as he saw the look in her eyes. "You think I'm a weak woman," she went on. "You think I know nothing, and can do nothing. But you're mistaken, my boy. I know a great deal, and can do a great deal." She reached towards him, and put her arms round his neck. "Oh, my lad, my lad!" she said. "You're the only thing I love. All through those long years in Cornwall I had nothing to brighten my life but the thought of you. I had only one thing to live for and to hope for, and that was your happiness; and you shall have it. All that you hope for, Paul--all that you hope for shall come to pass. Sometimes a weak, ignorant woman can do more than a clever man; and you're clever. Oh, yes, you are! You've got into Parliament, and you'll make a name in the world; but you haven't found the things you started out to find. You haven't got your rightful name. But you shall have everything, Paul: you shall have revenge, and you shall have love; and I, your mother, will give it you. As for that man Wilson, never fear, Paul, you shall have your revenge!" "What do you mean, mother?"