Mrs. Le Roy went home like one dazed. She had not counted on such a terrible disappointment. She had staked everything on Laurel's sweet, forgiving disposition. She had made no allowance for a woman's pride. She went to the library, where St. Leon sat among his books--dreaming, not reading--dreaming of a fair, cold, scornful face that shone on him from the walls of memory-- "Passionless, pale, cold face, star-sweet on a gloom profound; Woman-like, taking revenge too deep for a transient wrong." He glanced up absently at his mother's entrance, too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice her irrepressible agitation. "Oh, St. Leon," she cried out, distressfully. "Mrs. Lynn has gone away!" She saw the handsome face whiten under its healthy brown. He did not speak for a moment, only put out his hand and drew her gently to him. Then he said, in a hoarse, strained voice: "Well, mother?" The tone told her more than words. She broke out, vehemently: "My son, did you know, did you understand? It was Laurel, your wife, it was your own child. Can you realize it, my son?" He answered, wearily: "Yes, I know, dear." "You knew, and you let her go without a word--oh, St. Leon," she exclaimed, reproachfully. The dark mustached lips parted in a slight sad smile. "You wrong me, mother," he said: "I spoke to her. I claimed her and the child. She denied her identity, she laughed me to scorn. There was nothing more for me to say or do." "You give her up like this--her and the heir to Eden?" she exclaimed, in dismay. "There is nothing else to do--she denies my claim, and that ends all. I make no war upon women," he answered, sadly, but firmly. Tears of bitter disappointment crowded to her eyes. She had so counted upon this reconciliation, so longed to have Laurel back--Laurel and the little child who was heir to Eden. "And the child--will you give him up without a word?" she asked, in bitter disappointment. "You have every legal right to him." "Granted--but do you think I could take him from Laurel? No, no, mother, she shall keep the little one. We will not disturb her. It may be some little atonement for that night, if we leave her in peace;" then, with a weary sigh, "Let us drop the subject, mother." Sorely disappointed, she acquiesced in his decision, knowing that there was no appeal from his firm will. CHAPTER LVIII. Laurel had left Belle Vue in a sudden panic of fear and dread. She was afraid that her bold denial of her identity would irritate the Le Roys into an attempt to prove their charges and claim her child. She determined to put a wide distance between herself and her husband, regretting in her new-born terror that she had ever exposed herself to the danger of being recognized by him.