'That I may not tell you. I have been near you all your life, but never so near as now, when the Holy Ones have permitted me to be the bearer of their message. The good that is given, they say, must be expended in good.' 'Do you doubt that I feel it?' cried Tom. 'It is because I do not that I encourage you to open the paper.' 'But why----' 'I can tell you nothing. The past has gone from me. You must learn, moreover, as it is given to you to learn, not altogether, but little by little, and learning first an obedient mind.' 'To whom is my obedience to be given?' 'That will be shown to you. First steps must ever be taken with faith. Have courage!' 'It is not cowardice that makes me hesitate.' 'You are right. It is honesty. Then take time. To-night you will decide.' At this moment, when all Tom's nerves were tingling, there broke upon his ears sounds so familiar that in an instant they put to flight the weird impressions under which he had been labouring. 'Tom; I say, Tom! The dear boy is asleep or he would answer. I will go and see.' It was his mother's cheerful voice that rang up the stairway. In another moment her hand was on the door. 'Why, it is locked!' she cried. 'Are you asleep, dear? Let me in!' And she gave a series of impatient taps. 'In one moment,' said Tom. He gathered up the heap of papers, threw them into his writing-drawer, looked searchingly round the room, and then, whispering under his breath, 'Until to-night!' opened the door to admit his mother. CHAPTER V WHAT THE MOON AND RIVER SAID 'Were you asleep, dear?' said Mrs. Gregory gently. As she spoke she cast her eye timidly round the room. It fell on the writing-drawer, which Tom had not been able to shut on account of the quantity of papers. 'You have been busy?' she said with a vague smile. 'My business will keep,' he answered. 'Only some papers, mother--about the property, I suppose. Mr. Cherry gave them to me this morning. They were with the will--addressed to me.' 'How strange! And you have read them?' 'Not yet. They seem rather elaborate. I expect they will take time.' Mrs. Gregory brightened. 'Then they must keep,' she said cheerfully, 'for I want you. Lady Winter and her son are in the drawing-room. They have come on purpose to congratulate you, and I should like you to see them.' 'Very well, mother. Just let me make myself tidy first.' 'All right, dear, and I will entertain them. You know,' she lingered, looking at him wistfully, 'Lady Winter has always been so nice to me; and Sir Reginald knows everyone. He could help you on in society. You will make yourself pleasant to them--for my sake?' 'My dear mother,' said the boy, turning his strained-looking eyes upon her, 'I will do my best. No one can do any more.' With a little sigh she left him and returned to her visitors.