“Yes, mother, I have,” he answered firmly, but gently. And watching him, Marjorie Benton knew that no matter what else she and Hugh might have endowed him with, that Howard had inherited the stubbornness that had been so big a part of both their natures, that had wrought so much ruin to them both. She knew that it was inevitable that the illiterate little Irish girl would become the wife of her son. “I love her. I can’t tell you how dearly! I was very lonely when I met her, and she crept into my heart. She’s a good, true girl, and after we’re married, you and I can teach her together.” Marjorie Benton bowed her head to Fate’s decree. She had done what she could. She had tried before—and failed. But it was left for her this night to see the new monument to Hope she had raised up lie crumbling in ruins at her feet. “I can’t say anything more to you, Howard,” she said falteringly, “because I love you too much, dear, to stand in the way of your happiness. I’ll just ask God to bless you—and I’ll pray that it is all for the best.” “Mother, dear.” He leapt from his chair to kiss her. “You’re such a _brick_! You’ve made me so happy!” “I’m glad of that.” She smiled up into his eager face, but he could not see the smile was soulless. He had turned to pace up and down, fidgeting about uneasily. Suddenly he stopped in front of his mother who had not moved. “I have something else to tell you, mother,” he gulped, “and I—I don’t know just how—to say it.” Marjorie reached for his hand and stroked it gently. “You mustn’t hesitate to tell me anything,” she assured him. “We’ve been very close to each other since—since we came here. There must never again be a lack of confidence between us.” “I’ll have to tell you, mother.” He clasped his hands behind him, and cleared his throat. “I hope you won’t misunderstand—you’ve got out of the way of misunderstanding me since—since—” he stammered. His mother nodded encouragingly. “You know I love you,” he hurried on, “but I love Katie, too. We want to be married very soon, and she—we—want to start—living alone.” “You—you mean—you want to move?” She closed her eyes for a moment, “into a place of your own? You want to live—by yourselves? I—I can’t blame you for that—only—only—it is going to be very lonely here—without you.” “I—I’ll see you every day, mother—and so will Katie.” He was eager as the words tumbled over each other in his hurry to have done with the disagreeable task his promised wife had set him. “We—we don’t want to move! Katie likes this place very much—and it is just the right size—for us. We—we thought—if we could find you—a couple of rooms—in the neighborhood—you know—near to us—it would be fine—and it would be much easier—for you to move than it would be—for us—to—to—find a place.”