"Of nothing less than son, you know it."
His dark eyes lighted with an inward fire that he was powerless to mask.
"God bless you!—mother," he answered, chokingly; "perhaps the hour is not far distant when I may ask requital for the life I have given you back, and put you to the test."
They had entered the lighted hall and she glanced with a slightly wondering start into his face, though the replied in the same fulness of soul,
"Bring me to the test."
Their entrance into the dining-room and the presence of Hubert put an end to the conversation, and dinner began, a single course of which gave ample proof that the atmosphere had cleared. Romaine was out of danger, indeed convalescent, and the awful suspense of the last twenty-four hours was at an end. Mother and son presided in the very best of spirits, and Morton must have been morose indeed had he been able to withstand the contagion of their buoyant mood. Under the influence of their constantly reiterated gratitude for the feat which they ascribed to his skill, of the genial atmosphere, combined with the excellent fare and wines, he warmed while some hint of hope and peace crept back into his tortured heart. Only once did the clutch of inexorable destiny seem laid upon him, causing his blood to halt in its channels, as Hubert exuberantly exclaimed,
"I see but one way, Loyd, and only one, in which you can be repaid for saving Romaine!"
"Relieve my mind by informing me, Hubert," remarked Mrs. Effingham with a smile; "I confess that I have cudgelled my brains in vain."
"By giving him what he has saved—by giving him Romaine!"
"And how about Colston?" laughed the lady in high good humor.