Scott arose and walked slowly up and down the room. His face had grown very grave, and his lips were pressed firmly together. At length he stopped before Paul, and grasping both his hands tightly in his own, and looking straight down in the boy’s face, he said:
“Paul, my boy, I cannot give you up; it is useless to try. You are a part of my home. Mother and June look to you in all their troubles, and now when all is darkest with me, will you leave me in still greater darkness? Paul, I have never made a confidant of any one, but to you I have confided more than to any other.”
Paul remained silent.
“I will not ask you again why you leave me, but let me tell you that I shall be at a loss to know how to act without you, for I am just now in the beginning of a very puzzling piece of business, and I must have help in the matter.”
“Is it anything I can do?” Paul asked.
“I do not know; you might be compelled to leave the city.”
“Is it in regard to searching for your wife?”
“No, Paul,” Scott answered firmly. “I shall never look for Irene. When she comes to my home she will come of her own free will.”
“And you will take her back?”