rectly I can get
to him we will meet, and I will tell him, tell him with my own lips.'
Paul, that man has covered your mother with black shame. If he is
alive you must find him. The day he wrote me that letter he killed all
the love I had for him. The last feeling I had, when I lay down and
thought I was going to die on the roadside, was a feeling of hatred for
him. When I first saw you, although my heart went out to you with a
great love, I hated your father. For seventeen long years I have hated
him, and I hate him still."

She looked like a savage, and there was a snarl in her voice as she
spoke. "But for him, but for him----" And then she stopped. "Paul,
find him out, wherever he is. Find him out!"

The passion which burned in the mother's eyes passed into those of the
youth. She need not have told him what was in her heart. Paul
Stepaside hated his father from that day.

"Yes, I will," he said grimly. "I will find him. An eye for an eye; a
tooth for a tooth; disgrace for disgrace; misery for misery. Mother,
all you have suffered he shall suffer, and a thousand times more.
Wherever he is, whatever he is, I will find him." His eyes turned away
towards the dreary moors. Router and Brown Willy stood like grim
sentinels watching over the scene. A slight wind had arisen, which
soughed its way across the great silent spaces, dispelling the mists.
The black tors in the near distance became visible again; frogs croaked
in the marshes near by.

"But tell me more, mother. I know nothing yet. Who is he? What is
he? Tell me all you know of him."

"There is little I can tell," said the mother. "He told me his name
was Douglas Graham. I believe that to be true. I found out that from
the people at 'Highlands,' the big house close by my father's farm."

"Ah, they can tell us," he cried.

"Nay," replied the mother. "They only had the house for a short time,
and then left. They are gone, I know not whither, and I, fool that I
was, was too ignorant to find out in those days more about him. But he
was called Douglas Graham, there is no doubt about that."

"And is that all?"

"Only this," replied the mother, "he is a lawyer--what they call an
English barrister. I have heard that books are kept, containing a list
of such people. I expect they'll be in London; but these barrister men
go around the country, some of them. Anyhow, that is for you to find
out."

He nodded his head. "Yes, I will find