He was now close to her, looking down out of his dark, compelling eyes--eyes which were so like her own, save that now hers shone with a softer light.

"Pavely stayed a long time," he said abruptly. "Are you tired? D'you want to go in yet, mother?"

She shook her head. "I'd rather stay out here till it's time to dress."

As she spoke she lifted her face to his, and he told himself what a beautiful, and noble face it was, though each delicate, aquiline feature had thickened, and the broad low forehead was now partially concealed by thick bands of whitening hair. It was a lined, even a ravaged face--the face of a woman who had lived, had loved, had suffered. But of that Oliver was only dimly conscious, for his mother's nature if impetuous and passionate was almost as reserved and secretive as was his own.

It may be doubted, even, if Oliver Tropenell knew how much his mother loved him, for it may be doubted if any son ever knows how much his mother--even if she appear placid or careless--loves him. One thing Oliver did know, or confidently believed he knew, and that was that his mother loved him more than she had ever loved anything in the world. There he was quite content to leave it.

"Pavely wants me to become trustee to Laura's marriage settlement, in succession to old Mr. Blackmore."

When with Godfrey Pavely, Oliver Tropenell always called the other man by his Christian name, but behind his back he always spoke of him as "Pavely."

As his mother remained silent, he went on, a little hurriedly: "The powers vested in the trustee are very wide, and it seems that money which was later added to the trust--a matter of seventeen thousand pounds or so--is invested in some queer form of security."

They both smiled--he a little drily, she with a kind of good-humoured contempt.

"He's cautious and successful--in spite of that odd, gambling propensity," she spoke a little defensively. Then, "I suppose you've consented to act?"

She waited anxiously for his answer; and at last it came, uttered in a tone of elaborate unconcern: "I said I'd think it over. But I think I'll take it on, mother. Pavely made rather a personal favour of it--after all, there's some kind of relationship."

"Yes," agreed Mrs. Tropenell, "yes, there is certainly a connection, hardly a relationship, between ourselves 

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