"George Preston said that no one was near your office, Paul. As you know, I was there, and I saw the knife lying on your desk. Paul, Paul, let me confess to it! After all, it doesn't matter about me. Let me confess to it, so that you can go free--I will if you like. I don't mind the shame, I don't mind the disgrace. Let people say it was his mad mother, let them say----" "No, no, mother." His voice became harsh and almost unnatural as he spoke. "No, mother, not you. Whatever is borne, I will bear it. You needn't fear. My business affairs are all arranged satisfactorily; even while I'm lying here, money is being made. The contracts I made were good, and Preston is an honest, capable fellow; and you can live on at the old house, mother." He hardly knew what he was saying, so great was the terror which filled his heart and life. His mother had practically confessed to him the thing he feared, but he was not angry with her. Instead, his heart was filled with a great yearning pity. Oh, what she must have suffered! the agonies through which she must have passed; and it was all for him, all for him. He would a thousand times rather plead "Guilty" to the crime than that one shadow of suspicion should fall upon her. Besides, he did not believe she was altogether responsible for what she had done. Even on the night of the murder, he had noticed the madness in her eyes. He remembered the look which had haunted him almost ever since. In her love for him, a love which was unreasoning, and which rendered her anger almost uncontrollable, she had done what under ordinary circumstances would never have been possible. "Poor mother!" he reflected. "All her life she has blamed herself for having brought, as she thought, disgrace upon me. Her only object in life has been that I might find happiness, and that justice should be done to me. No thought of self ever came into any deed she has done since I have been born. She was silent for me; she suffered for me; she thought for me; she slaved for me; and now she has become---- But it was all for me. No, she shall suffer nothing that I can defend her from. But, oh, her burden must be a ghastly one! And I must try hard, too; yes, I must make her think bright thoughts." "It's all right, mother," he said. "You needn't fear!" "It'll all come out right," she said, and there was a kind of hysteria in her voice. "It must," was his reply. "I have thought it all out, mother. I have gone over the ground, step by step, and you needn't fear." "That's why you're going to defend yourself, isn't it?" and she almost laughed. "You're going to surprise them at the trial? You won't tell what your thoughts are to anyone, for fear they shall make a bungle of it? Half these barristers, I'm told, are very muddle-headed, and make all sorts of foolish admissions; and you're going to defend yourself in your own way, aren't you?" "Yes, mother," he replied, "in my own way."