o with lawyers as possible. He had resolved upon
his course of action. He would get money from his mother for immediate
needs, and when that mother died he would assert his rights. "My rough
life has unfitted me for drawing-rooms, dear mother," he said. "Do not
let there be a display about my return. Give me a corner to smoke my
pipe, and I am happy." Lady Devine, with a loving tender pity, for which
John Rex could not altogether account, consented, and "Mr. Richard" soon
came to be regarded as a martyr to circumstances, a man conscious of his
own imperfections, and one whose imperfections were therefore lightly
dwelt upon. So the returned prodigal had his own suite of rooms, his own
servants, his own bank account, drank, smoked, and was merry. For five
or six months he thought himself in Paradise. Then he began to find his
life insufferably weary. The burden of hypocrisy is very heavy to bear,
and Rex was compelled perpetually to bear it. His mother demanded all
his time. She hung upon his lips; she made him repeat fifty times the
story of his wanderings. She was never tired of kissing him, of weeping
over him, and of thanking him for the "sacrifice" he had made for her.

"We promised never to speak of it more, Richard," the poor lady said one
day, "but if my lifelong love can make atonement for the wrong I have
done you--"

"Hush, dearest mother," said John Rex, who did not in the least
comprehend what it was all about. "Let us say no more."

Lady Devine wept quietly for a while, and then went away, leaving the
man who pretended to be her son much bewildered and a little frightened.
There was a secret which he had not fathomed between Lady Devine and her
son. The mother did not again refer to it, and, gaining courage as the
days went on, Rex grew bold enough to forget his fears. In the first
stages of his deception he had been timid and cautious. Then the
soothing influence of comfort, respect, and security came upon him,
and almost refined him. He began to feel as he had felt when Mr. Lionel
Crofton was alive. The sensation of being ministered to by a loving
woman, who kissed him night and morning, calling him "son"--of being
regarded with admiration by rustics, with envy by respectable folk--of
being deferred to in all things--was novel and pleasing. They were so
good to him that he felt at times inclined to confess all, and leave his
case in the hands of the folk he had injured. Yet--he thought--such a
course wou