"No," she said. "I'm going to stay up a little longer. I'm not so weak as you think. Did I give way when—when—when I heard how near you were to——? Oh, Paul! my boy! my boy! Thank God! No wonder you love Mary. It was she who saved you! I fancied you had got yourself off by your own cleverness, but, without her——"
"Without her everything would have been impossible," said Paul, but he did not lift his eyes. He was afraid what his mother might see there.
"All the same, you'd better go to bed, mother. You'll be overtired!"
"Listen," she said, and both Mary and Paul saw her hands tremble. "There! There! Don't you hear?"
All plainly heard the sound of wheels outside, an eager step on the path, and then a knock at the door. Paul Stepaside's mother sat rigid. She seemed like one afraid; yet there was a bright light in her eyes all the time.
"Run, my lassie," she said quickly. "Run. Don't wait for one of the maids to go, perhaps it will be——"
But Mary did not hear the end of her sentence. She ran to the door, and opened it, and both mother and son heard whispering voices in the little hall.
A few seconds later Mary returned again, accompanied by Judge Bolitho. He looked from one face to another, as if uncertain of his welcome. He had evidently come from a long journey, for he looked travel-stained and weary, but each noticed how eager his face was. Paul's mother sat rigidly in her chair. She gave no word of welcome, no sign of recognition. It seemed as though the presence of the judge had placed the seal of silence upon her lips. Paul rose and held out his hand.
"No," said the judge. "I will not take your hand."
Paul looked at him in astonishment. It seemed strange to him, after what had passed at their last meeting, for him to act in this way.