earnestness had
given place to anger, "I am a woman and have borne from her what no
woman bears and forgets, or forgives! Are you any the wiser now?" she
demanded. "It is all that I shall tell you; so don't insist."

The two continued to look into each other's eyes, and something, it
could hardly be called inimical, rather an aloofness from the tie of
blood, was visible to each in the other's steadfast gaze. Aurora Googe
shivered. Her eyes fell before the younger ones.

"Don't Champney! Don't let's get upon this subject again; I can't bear
it."

"But, mother," he protested, "you mentioned it first."

"It was what you said about Almeda's furnishing you with money that
started it. Don't say anything more about it; only promise me, won't
you?"

She raised her eyes again to his, but this time in appeal. At forty-one
Aurora Googe was still a very beautiful woman, and her appeal, made
gently as if in apology for her former vehemence, rendered that beauty
potent with her son's manhood.

"Let me think it over, mother, before I promise." He answered her as
gently. "It's a hard thing to exact of a man, and I don't hold much with
promises. What did Uncle Louis' amount to?"

The blood surged into his mother's face, and tears, rare ones, for she
was not a weak woman neither was she a sentimental one, filled her eyes.
Her son came up the steps and kissed her. They were seldom demonstrative
to this extent save in his home-comings and leave-takings. He changed
the subject abruptly.

"I'm going down to the village now. You know I have the serenade on my
program, at eight. Afterwards I'll run down to The Greenbush for the
mail and to see my old cronies. I haven't had a chance yet." He began to
whistle for the puppy, but cut himself short, laughing. "I was going to
take Rag, but he won't fit in with the serenade. Keep him tied up while
I'm gone, please. Anything you want from the village, mother?"

"No, not to-night."

"Don't sit up for me; I may be late. Joel is long-winded and the Colonel
is booming The Gore for all it is worth and more too; I want to hear the
fun. Good night."

VIII

The afterglow of sunset was long. The dilated moon, rising from the
waters of the Bay, shone pale at first; but as it climbed the shoulder
of the mountain _Wave-of-the-Sea_ and its light fell upon the farther
margin of the lake, its clear disk was pure argent.

Champney looked his approval. It was the kind of night he had been
hoping fo