"Who told you?"
"You."
"Never."
"He forgets already what he told me a few minutes ago. This is terrible. I shall not be able to stand it much longer. My poor Wat! I wonder what has turned his brain?" the mother thought. She endeavoured to keep on her face an expression of vivacious interest.
He spoke again. "I never told you I was in love with Maud Midharst. I only told you that it is absolutely necessary I should marry her."
"In some things," the mother thought, "he is as clear as ever. Of course all this talk of his marrying Miss Midharst is the result of some way poor Bee's death affected him," she reflected. Aloud she said, "But, Henry, if you do not love her, and if she is poor and you are not rich, why are you compelled to marry her?"
"If any one knew the answer to that question, mother, that person could put me in the dock and convict me of embezzlement."
She started to her feet and placed her hand on his shoulder, and cried in a voice of agony: "My God, my son is mad!"
He rose quietly and put both his hands tenderly on her shoulders, and whispered hoarsely in her ear: "I am not mad now. I never was more sane in my life. I was mad when I stole Sir Alexander's savings to the last penny. It was with his money I saved the Bank."
"Great God, what do I hear!"