He saw what her questions meant, knew the thought that was burning in her brain, realised her mad desire to proclaim her right as a wife and as an honourable mother.
Paul Stepaside loved his mother, and never more than then. All those feelings of filial affection which had been aroused in his heart by the remembrance of her sad story were intensified at that moment. Yes, she was his mother, and she must have her rights. But if she had them?
That was the question, the supreme question. His desire for revenge had lost its power now. A new motive force was at work, a new set of circumstances clamoured for recognition.
Oh, what a muddle life was! Who could explain its mystery? Who could unravel the entanglement?
The steps of the warder were heard in the corridor outside, and Paul knew that his mother's visit must come to an end.
"What will you do? What will you do?" she asked.
"I must wait—I must think," was his reply. "Of course, you have told nothing to anyone else?"
"No, Paul. How could I?"
"And that man has no suspicion?"
"No; he did not see me."