The judge's eyes sought those of the older woman, who still sat rigidly in her chair. He seemed to be on the point of speaking to her, but before he could do so Paul broke in.
"Then the shame which has been attached to my name must be attached to Mary's!" he cried.
"Never," replied the judge. "That need not be. Concerning Mary's birth no word need be uttered. There is no need that we should deceive anyone, nevertheless the truth is not for the world. I need only say that Mary is not my child, but that I have simply reared her as my own. Her mother was a pure woman, but concerning her parentage we need say nothing."
"I would rather," cried Paul, "that my own name——"
"Stop, Paul!" said Mary. "It does not matter at all. How can it, when—when—— Oh, Paul, Paul, my love!"
"I've always loved you like my own child," said the judge, "and under ordinary circumstances these revelations should never have passed my lips, but—but I—I thought, I understood——"
Paul dared not speak again. The truth was that the knowledge which had come to him in such a strange way overwhelmed him with joy. It seemed to him as though that dark winter night had changed into a June morning. Everything was possible. His mind had swept aside the little conventions of men. Mary's presence and Mary's love were all the world to him.
The judge again looked towards Paul's mother. "I have not quite finished yet," he said, and his voice trembled as he spoke. "And I want to say something more. You know all now, Jean, know what a coward I've been, know how that cowardice meant your misery and your disgrace. I do not seek to excuse my conduct. It cannot be excused, and yet I must speak the truth, I must——"
He hesitated a second, and then went on, "Can you forgive me, Jean? Through all you have been pure and worthy, while I have been unworthy. My name has been spoken of with honour, and yours has been covered with shame through me. Can you forgive me? And more—perhaps you will scorn me and repel me when I tell you this—but after that night when I saw you in Manchester and knew that you still lived, all my old love came back to me; I know that really it had never died. Jean, can you forgive me?"
The eyes of the man and the woman met. At first hers seemed hard and unyielding—she was evidently fighting a great battle. Then slowly, little by little, they underwent a change, and Paul saw that the tears were welling up.