at
terrible night when he had come dimly to an understanding of what it
all meant. Geoff, like Hamlet, in his little way felt that nothing that
could be done could ever undo that night. It was there, a fact which no
after resolution could change. No vengeance could have put back the world
to what it was before Hamlet's mother had married her brother-in-law, and
the soft Ophelia turned into an innocent traitor, and all grown false:
neither could anything undo to little Geoff the dreadful revolution of
heaven and earth through which his little life had gone. All the world
was out of joint, and what could he do to mend it, a little boy of ten--a
backward little boy, not knowing half so much as many at his age? His
little bosom swelled, his eyes grew wet, and that strange sensation came
in his throat. But he kept on riding a little in front of Black so that
nothing could be seen.

Lady Markland was in the avenue as he rode up to the gate. Geoff knew
very well that she had walked as far as the gate with Warrender, whom he
had seen taking the road to the right, the short way across the fields.
But when he saw his mother he got down from his pony, and walked home
with her. "Where have you been?" she cried. "I was getting very anxious;
you must not go those long rides by yourself."

"I had Black," said Geoff, "and you said I should have to be independent,
to be able to take care of myself."

"Did I say so, dear? Perhaps it is true: but still you know how nervous
I am, how anxious I grow."

Geoff looked his mother in the face like an accusing angel, not severely,
but with all the angelic regret and tenderness of one who cannot be
deceived, yet would fain blot out the fault with a tear. "Poor mamma!"
he said, clasping her arm in his old childish way.

"Why do you call me poor mamma? Geoff, some one has been saying something
to you, your face is not like the face of my own boy."

She was seized with sudden alarm, with a wild desire to justify herself,
and the sudden wrath with which a conscious culprit takes advantage of
the suggestion that ill tongues alone or evil representations have come
between her and those whom she has wronged. The child on his side took
no notice of this. He had gone so much further; beyond the sphere in
which there are accusations or defences--indeed he was too young for
anything of the kind. "Mamma," he said clasping her arm, "I think I
should like to go to school. Don't you think it would be bette