'But what?' asked Hilda. 'He told me everything--everything--and--and----Oh!' She burst into sobs and crying, though she despised women who cry. 'It is terrible-- It is terrible-- It is incredible. Yet, what can I think? What can any one think? Leave us, Hilda. Leave us, Elsie.' The two girls went out unwillingly. 'Oh! my son--how can I believe it? And yet--on the one hand, a boy of two-and-twenty exposed to all the temptations of town: on the other, an old clerk of fifty years' service and integrity. And when the facts are laid before you both--calmly and coldly--you fly into a rage and run away, while Checkley calmly remains to await the inquiry.' Mrs. Arundel had been accustomed all her life to consider Mr. Dering as the wisest of men. She felt instinctively that he regarded her son with suspicion: she heard all the facts: she jumped to the conclusion that he was a prodigal and a profligate: that he had fallen into evil ways, and spent money in riotous living: she concluded that he had committed these crimes in order to get more money for more skittles and oranges. 'Athelstan '--she laid her hand upon his arm, but did not dare to lift her eyes and behold that guilty face--'Athelstan'--confess--make reparation so far as you can--confess--oh! my son--my son! You will be caught and tried and found guilty, and--oh! I cannot say it--through the notes which you have changed. They are all known and stopped.' The boy's wrath was now changed to madness. 'You!' he cried. 'You! My own mother! You believe it, no! Oh! we are all going mad together. What? Then I am turned out of this house, as I am turned out of my place. I go, then--I go; and'--here he swore a mighty oath, as strong as anybody out of Spain can make them--'I will never--never--never come home again till you come yourself to beg forgiveness--you--my own mother!' Outside, in the hall, his sisters stood, waiting and trembling. 'Athelstan,' cried the elder, 'what, in the name of Heaven, have you done?' 'Go, ask my mother. She will tell you. She knows, it seems, better than I know myself. I am driven away by my own mother. She says that I am guilty of--of--of forgery.' 'If she says so, Athelstan,' his sister replied coldly, 'she must have her reasons. She would not drive you out of the house for nothing. Don't glare like that. Prove your innocence.' 'What? You, too? Oh! I am driven away by my sisters as well----' 'No, Athelstan--no,' cried Elsie, catching his hand. 'Not both your sisters.' 'My poor child;' he stooped and kissed her. 'They will make you believe what they believe. Good Heavens! They make haste to believe it; they are glad to believe it.' 'No--no. Don't go, Athelstan.' Elsie threw her arms about him. 'Stay, and show that they are wrong. Oh! you are innocent. I will never--never--never believe it.' He kissed her again, and tore himself away. The street door slammed behind him: they heard his footsteps as he strode away. He had gone.