glad to see him."

Struck by something lifeless and jaded in the voice she loved, Victoria
shot a glance at her son, then slipped her hand into his arm, and walked
back with him to his library.

He sat down silently to his books and papers. A couple of official
reports lay open, and Victoria knew that he was going to an important
county meeting that evening, where he was to be in the chair. Many older
men, men who had won their spurs in politics or business, would be there,
and it was entirely by their wish--their kindly wish--that Harry would
take the lead. They desired to see him treading in the steps of his
forefathers.

Perched on the end of his writing table, she watched her son a moment. It
seemed to her she saw already what the young face would be like when it
was old. A pang struck her.

"Harry--is there anything wrong?"

He looked up quite simply and stretched his hand to her.

"I asked her to marry me last night."

"Well?" The colour rushed into the mother's face.

"No go. She doesn't love me. She wants us to be friends."

Victoria gasped.

"But she's coming to sit to Delorme this afternoon!"

"Because I asked her."

"Harry, dear boy, for both your sakes--either all or nothing! If she
doesn't care--break it off."

"There's nothing to break off, dearest. And don't ask me not to see her.
I couldn't. Who knows? She's got her ideas. Of course I've got mine.
Perhaps--after all--I may win. Or, if not--perhaps"--he shaded his face
with his hand--"she'll show me--how not to mind. I know she wants to."

Silence a moment. Then the lad's hand dropped. He smiled at Victoria.

"Let's fall in! There's nothing else to do anyway. She's not like other
girls. When she says a thing--she means it. But so long as I can see
her--I'm happy!"

"You ought to forget her!" said Victoria angrily, kissing his hair.
"These things should _end_--one way or the other."

He looked perplexed.

"She doesn't think so--and I'm thankful she doesn't, mother--don't say
anything to her. Promise me. She said last night--she loved you. She
wants to come here. Let's give her a jolly time. Perhaps--"

The patience in his blue eyes nearly made her cry. And there was also the
jealousy that no fond mother escapes, the commonest of all jealousies. He
was passing out of her hands, this creature of her own flesh. Till now
she had moulded and shaped him. Henceforward the lightest influence
rained by this girl's eyes would mean more to hi