The shot was made at a venture, but Gabrielle quickly saw that it had taken effect. She followed it up: "You thought that if you upset him he might lose what he's gained. You don't know--we none of us know yet--how deep the change is. You didn't dare to face that little risk; but it's nothing compared with the one you want to take now. That's what you've got to face!" She could say no more. When she stopped speaking Mrs. Payne knew that the girl's eyes were fixed on her eagerly, desperately, trying to search into her mind. The older woman stood there still and bewildered by the choice that had been presented to her. It was the most awful moment in her emotional life. Her mind was a battlefield on which her love, her sense of right, her acquired conventions, her religion, and her hungry maternal passion were pitted against one formidable dread. She wanted to shield Arthur against harm: from a social disaster no less than from what she considered a mortal sin; and, above all, after these years of patient suffering, she wanted him for herself. It was neither religion nor morality that drove her to her final decision, but a thing far stronger: her passionate instinct to possess the son of her body. Even if she were to lose him, to rescue no more than the changeling that she had always known, she could not bring herself to share him with any other woman on earth. He was hers and hers alone. She did not know if she were right. She did not care if she were wrong. The decision formed itself inexorably in her mind. She could only obey it. Gabrielle, watching her narrowly, saw a sudden peace descend upon her agonised face. Mrs. Payne gave a long shuddering sigh. Then she spoke, dully, mechanically: "The train goes at seven-fifty. I will order the carriage. I will write to Dr. Considine in the morning." Gabrielle clutched at her breast. "You can't realise what you're doing! It's too great a risk. Think of it again ... I beg you!" "No," said Mrs. Payne slowly. "I've made up my mind. We must invent some plausible excuse. Illness will do ... anything. And you must help me, if only for your own sake." Desperate tears came into Gabrielle's eyes. "For your own sake," Mrs. Payne repeated. "You've realised, I know, that if you go on with this unfortunate love-affair you must ruin not only your own happiness and your husband's, but Arthur's as well. If you love him at all you can't drag him into social ruin. Well, I've made my decision. If anything disastrous happens my blood's on my own head. We must make the best of a bad job. Don't think I'm not sorry for you, my dear."