ight be the effect upon her of this disclosure?
There was nothing to do, however, but to face it out and to make the
truth known as quickly and as gently as possible.

But as he entered the study he received a surprise that robbed the
adventure of all its entertainment, that changed this comedy into a
tragedy and humbled the man's reckless spirit.

III

Van Dam saw that which filled him with an aching pity; for, instead of a
girl, he found awaiting him a frail, sweet-faced old woman whose fingers
were locked as if in prayer, whose lips were murmuring the name of her
son. Her hair, softer and finer than silken floss, was silvery white;
her wistful, wrinkled countenance was ablaze with a glad excitement that
made it glorious and holy. That which caused Van Dam's heart to melt and
to turn away completely, however, was the fact that she was blind.

She had heard his step, muffled as it was in the inch-thick carpet, and
rose with a tender cry, pausing with her arms outstretched, her body
shaken by an ecstasy of yearning.

"Emile! Emile!" she whispered, and came toward him. Her sightless eyes
were wet; she was trembling terribly.

Van Dam experienced a desire to flee. He tried to speak and to warn her
off, but as the feeble figure swayed toward him, the age-old, appalling
tragedy of mother love caused his throat to tighten. Then he took her
hands in his; his arms enfolded her. She lay against his breast, weeping
softly, gladly, while he bowed his head reverently over hers. Had his
life depended upon his speaking, he could not have done so. He merely
waited, with a sick feeling of dread, the instant of her awakening. He
was vaguely surprised as moment followed moment and it did not come.
Then he discovered the explanation. Grief had set her wits to wandering;
days and weeks and months of yearning had burned away some part of her
faculties, leaving her possessed by such a reasonless hunger that almost
any object would have served to fill her want. He had heard of demented
mothers whose minds had been saved by the substitution of a living for a
dead child, and it seemed that this was a similar case; for she was
flooded now with a supreme content and appeared to experience no
suspicion of fraud.

The touch of her fluttering fingers on his cheek was like the caress of
butterfly wings; her voice was soft; her words, though wandering, were
tender and filled with such a heaven-born adoration that his distress
was mult