ekly
Chronicle": the humour of the thing swept all else before it, and I
laughed again--I could not help it--loud and long. It was my first
introduction to the comedy of life, which is apt to be more brutal than
the comedy of fiction.

But nearing home, the serious side of the matter forced itself
uppermost. Fortunately, our supposed dividends had been paid to us
by Mr. Stillwood only the month before. Could I keep the thing from
troubling my mother's last days? It would be hard work. I should have to
do it alone, for a perhaps foolish pride prevented my taking Hal into my
confidence, even made his friendship a dread to me, lest he should come
to learn and offer help. There is a higher generosity, it is said, that
can receive with pleasure as well as bestow favour; but I have never
felt it. Could I be sure of acting my part, of not betraying myself to
her sharp eyes, of keeping newspapers and chance gossip away from her?
Good shrewd Amy I cautioned, but I shrank from even speaking on the
subject to Hal, and my fear was lest he should blunder into the subject,
which for the usual nine days occupied much public attention. But
fortunately he appeared not even to have heard of the scandal.

Possibly had the need lasted longer I might have failed, but as it was,
a few weeks saw the end.

"Don't leave me to-day, Paul," whispered my mother to me one morning. So
I stayed, and in the evening my mother put her arms around my neck and I
lay beside her, my head upon her breast, as I used to when a little boy.
And when the morning came I was alone.

BOOK II.

CHAPTER I

DESCRIBES THE DESERT ISLAND TO WHICH PAUL WAS DRIFTED.

"Room to let for a single gentleman." Sometimes in an idle hour,
impelled by foolishness, I will knock at the door. It is opened after a
longer or shorter interval by the "slavey"--in the morning, slatternly,
her arms concealed beneath her apron; in the afternoon, smart in dirty
cap and apron. How well I know her! Unchanged, not grown an inch--her
round bewildered eyes, her open mouth, her touzled hair, her scored red
hands. With an effort I refrain from muttering: "So sorry, forgot
my key," from pushing past her and mounting two at a time the narrow
stairs, carpeted to the first floor, but bare beyond. Instead, I say,
"Oh, what rooms have you to let?" when, scuttling to the top of the
kitchen stairs, she will call over the banisters: "A gentleman to see
the rooms." There comes up, panting, a harass