All the earnestness of this man's nature went into these words, and there was in them and the manner attending them a fervid pathos which stirred the heart of the woman so deeply it almost killed her to keep from crying out, and throwing her arms round her son, and weeping on his breast. But by a superhuman effort, an effort no created being could make but a mother for the salvation of a child, she held her passionate love within her own heart; for, according to her theory, so must all women who wish to rule their children; and she wanted to rule, not for the love of power, but for the love of love and the preservation of her son. She gave one quick glance at him out of those sharp eyes, and then throwing down the eyes on the ground, said in a constrained voice: "The St. George's Banking Company has failed. There is a run on the Daneford. You are unable to meet that run, and you were thinking of getting away from the run and the closing of the doors with----that." She shuddered, raised her hand, and pointed to the black bag into which he had dropped the revolver. "No! no! no! mother!" he cried imploringly. "I pledge you my word--if you like I will prove to you--that we are able to meet any run that may come upon us in consequence of this failure. If you like I will call in Aldridge to corroborate my words." "Corroborate your word, Henry!" she cried scornfully. "Do you think I could doubt my son's word, and believe the word of any other man alive! Never while I live, I hope, shall you fall so pitifully low as to need another man's word to help your word to my belief." She laid hold of the imputed question of her son's word as a point on which to rally her disordered feelings and overcome the tendency she felt to break down. "Well, mother, rest assured this run threatens us with no danger whatever. On the contrary, as we are able to meet it without the least inconvenience, the position of the Bank ought to be very materially improved when all becomes quiet again." He rose and left her as he spoke, and locked the two doors of the room, observing: "We don't want anyone to come in and interrupt us now." By the time he returned to his seat she had recovered her composure. "Then what do you mean by 'setting out on a journey?' Those words helped me into the fear." As a reply to that question, he pushed the note he had just received from Mrs. Grant across the table to her, and said: "Read that, and you will understand." She adjusted her tortoiseshell spectacles and read the note deliberately. When she had finished she looked up quickly. He was standing at the window looking out. His back was towards her, and she could not see his face. It was wrinkled and drawn up like a yellow leaf. "Do you know what you are wanted for at the Castle?" she asked briskly. "No." "What has happened to your voice?" she asked, in a tone of anxiety and surprise. He had spoken as though his windpipe was almost closed in a gripe.