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There's no chance; he . he would never let me, not now. "

"My father has no power over ... your child." He had almost said "our child."

"I am the person, who, from now on, will dictate what will happen to it."

The eager look was creeping back into her face and she said in a whisper, "You ... you really mean that ... that I could have him again?"

"Yes, yes, that is what I mean. But you would have to have a suitable place in which to bring him up." His eyes flickered around the room.

"May I... may I

ask you a question? " He waited a second, then went on, " Are you thinking of being married? "

The question seemed to surprise her for she jerked her chin before turning her head to the side and looking down as she answered, "No; an' I won't, ne veri He was surprised at the answer and the authoritative tone in which it had been given, and he allowed a moment to pass before he went on, "Well, now what I have in mind is this. I will settle a sum on you that will enable you to take a house in a respectable healthy neighborhood, say on the outskirts of Newcastle, and when he reaches the age of five, you will send him to school. It could be a day school, but a good one. I would wish him to be known as Richard John Horatio Fischel; he has recently been registered under this name." He stopped as he saw her hands going out towards the table, and gripping it as if for support; and then, her gaze still cast downwards, she asked, "Why ... why are you doing all this?" to which he answered quietly, "Isn't it evident? I wish to make reparation to you for the harm I brought on you, and I wish to settle it before I return to sea."

She raised her eyes to his now and stared at him, and she saw him, for the first time, not as a demon but as a young man of pleasing appearance, with an expression that was serious, and grey eyes that were kindly, and she couldn't associate him with the other being, who on two of the three occasions they had met, had held her to him and created in her fear- tearing panic.

When she asked softly, "What of your father? I... I think he is very fond of the child," he paused before answering because, deep within him, he knew that he should ask the same question of himself as she had in reply to his former question, "Why are you doing all this?" and if he were to be truthful he would answer with another question: Why should his father have it all ways? He had banished him for raping a young girl, hadn't he, and yet had himself been quite prepared to enjoy the fruits of that act? Moreover he had taken upon himself a halo for his clemency. Clemency! when, as she had said, he had got the child, not for money, but for two lawn handkerchiefs.

His answer to her was now checked by the door opening and a thick-set powerful man entering. He stared at the fellow and the fellow stared at him;

then she, in great agitation, exclaimed, as she moved down by the side of the table towards the man.

"Ohi Matthew! I didn't think to see you the day."

Matthew came slowly into the room, and after glancing at her he returned his gaze to the visitor and, his voice grim, said without preamble, "What's your business here?"

"Whatever my business I cannot see " what it has to do with you. Sir.

"

Clive's voice was no longer that of the sailor, or the pleasant individual who talked to the outside staff, but that of a Fischel, a man who demanded respect and obedience as his right.

"Now, perhaps you'll allow me to ask you the same question. Who are you?"

"Everybody knows who I am. Fm Matthew Turnbull, the miller, from Brockdale."

Clive now cast a glance towards Cissie. She was staring at the fellow, pleading in her eyes. Hadn't she said she was not going to be married, nor ever would be? Then who was this man who spoke as if she were his property? Well, it would be easy to find out, he was the miller at Brockdale.

He turned and looked at her, saying now, "You'll be hearing from me again. In the meantime good-day to you." He made no motion of farewell to the man who had his eyes fixed hard on him but went out through the door and into the mist; and as he walked, the face of the miller intruded on to a picture that had formed in his mind when he had said to her, "You will take a house on the outskirts of Newcastle. " The picture had shown him returning from sea and going to the house to visit his son ... and his son's mother.... " Who's he?

"

Cissie closed her eyes, rubbed her hand all 'round her face, and finished by smoothing her hair back;

but even then she didn't answer Matthew's question. Sitting down on a chair, she joined her hands tightly together before looking up and saying, "It's ... it's him, His Lordship's son."

"Whati" Matthew looked as if he were going to bound towards the door, and she leaned swiftly across the table and grabbed at his arm, saying,

"No, no lIt all right. Let me tell you. I've ... I've got something'

to tell you. He ... he didn't come lookin' for me, plaguing me; he came to tell me I ... I could have Richard back. Aye, he did."

She moved her head slowly at him.

"You see, it was like this...." And now as he stared stiffly down at her she told him what she had kept to herself for years, and had made Joe keep to himself, the hidey-hole from where at intervals she had watched her child grow, and she finished, "He ... he could have given me away but he didn't;

instead, he's gone about makin' it possible for me to have the hairn back. "

And now Matthew asked the question she had asked of Clive, "Why?"

"" Cos"--she looked down and wagged her head-- " he's, he's sorry for what he did. "

"Huh! Godi" She brought her eyes quickly up to his.

"He is, Matthew, he is. I ... I was terrified of him, scared out of me wits at the sight of him, until ... until a little while ago when he stood there an' I seemed to see him not as a devil any longer but just like, well, anybody else."

"But he's not like anybody else, an' you know that. You know it only too well. And if he says he's goin' to do something for you let me tell you, Cissie, he's not doin' it for nothing. They don't, not them lot. You be careful, it could be some kind of trap, an' I'm warning you."

"What kind of trap could it be if he gives me the baim back?"

"I don't know, I haven't had time to think, but I tell you, be on your guard; what he did once he could try on again...."

She pushed her chair back and got to her feet, staring at him the while, and he said defiantly, "Well, I'm sorry, but... but I don't trust any of them."

She turned away and when there was a silence between them she muttered,

"Will you have a drop of tea? it's fresh made." Then, "What brings you over at this time of day?"

Now he sat down and, bending forward, stared into the fire and said, "I think she's goin' out of her head. I ... I came over 'cos William told me that he had seen her as he and Straker were coming back in the cart from Gateshead. He saw her mounting the fells in this direction, and and I was afraid." His head went lower and his voice went into a low growl as he ended, "I'm afraid all the time now.... Cissie" -he turned round"--why don't you move? Look, I can get you a place, in Jarrow or Shields or anywhere roundabout."

She stopped with the teapot in her hand, but she didn't look at him as she said, "I could be movin'. If I get the hairn back he says I've got to move into a respectable district and ... and have him educated."

"And he'll pay for it all?" He was on his feet now.

"Well" --her head was up and her voice was harsh-- "it stands to reason that I can't, doesn't it?"

"Look." He put out his hand and pointed his finger at her.

"I'm warnin' you. You be careful; men like him don't promise houses to people like you--now that's putting it bluntly--unless they're after something."

"He's only trying to pay for what he did." She was shouting at him.

"That's what he says. Oh my Godi" He held his brow for a moment; then asked in a quieter tone, "You want to get away from here?" And she said softly now, "Aye, Matthew; I'm sick to the heart of me at the thought of another winter." And when he came and stood close to her and said, "Well, let it be me who'll fix it for you," she looked up at him and said quietly, "Not if I take the child with me." She could have added, "And not if I don't either, not as long as you're married, and her almost going off her head as it is."

He swung round from her now and marched towards the door while thrusting on his hat, but when he had opened it he turned to her once more and said, "Keep the door bolted, and keep a lookout. And I'm not only meaning with regards to her." And on that he was gone.

Clive went into Newcastle to see the solicitor--not his father's solicitor, but one of his own choosing.

The firm of Weir and Dixon was well established and dealt with a number of county families, and Mr. Weir wasn't unused to the request the young man made. It was to the effect that he should look for a house for him, a small establishment of eight to ten rooms with a garden, the whole to be in a secluded spot in a healthy district.

Also, that he wanted papers to be drawn up to the effect that one thousand pounds a year was to be allotted to acertain lady in support of herself and her son. The purchase of the house, the furnishings, and the maintenance in the future of the entire establishment were to come out of a separate fund.

Mr. Weir assured the young gentleman that his wishes would be attended to with the utmost speed, but it might take a few days, or even a week or so, to find such an establishment. Nevertheless, he had no doubt whatever that it could be found.

Clive impressed upon him that the matter needed speedy attention, then left, and went to his father's club, where he ate a small meal and drank, a great deal; and as dusk was falling he was assisted into the coach by Bowmer and driven back to the Hall.

The following day he was late in appearing at breakfast, and was favored by a scowl from his father as he took his seat at the table and an almost disdainful look from Isabelle, which latter amused him.

His fiery sister was a very tame person these days, one could almost say a motherly person. How would she react to the news that he was taking the child away, giving it back to its rightful mother? He didn't ask himself whether she would be hurt because he didn't care if she was hurt or not; for the truth he'd had to face a long, long time ago was that he really disliked his sister, he hated some part of her, and the hate stemmed from the day she had laughed, and cried to him,

"Well, why don't you? Go on!" and had leaned against the tree and finished, "You're frightened. You never have, have you?" Without her taunting he never would have, even then; and he knew now, even more so than he did then, that there was something unnatural, something bad in the make-up of a woman who could witness such a deed.

So, feeling like this, he saw her act of mothering the boy as just that, an act. If he had been told at this moment that he could be proved wrong he would not have believed it; it needed action on her part to convince him, and he had it later that day.

The day before, much to his father's annoyance, he had refused the invitation to join him and Isabelle in the shoot on Bellingham's estate, and his father was now demanding in a tone heavy with exasperation, "What is the matter with you? You enjoy your shoot, don't you?" to which he replied, "Yes, but I'm not feeling inclined that way at present. How long is it on for?"

"The week."

"Then I may accompany you tomorrow."

Later, Isabelle had stood at the top of the steps pulling on her gloves and she allowed her father to descend almost to the bottom before she turned to Clive and said under her breath, "What has come over you?

You're acting like a bore; you should go back to the sea, you'd be more at home there."

"Quite right, quite right." His lips moved into the twisted smile.

"And I'm thinking seriously of doing just that."

Her eyes widened slightly as she said, "Don't be ridiculous; you seem to forget you have taken on a new responsibility."

"Oh, I haven't forgotten that."

"You surprise me! Then may I ask that during the time I ... we are out you could force yourself to go and see the child?"

"Yes, yes, you could." He bowed his head to her.

"I may even go further than that. I may take him for a walk; it's a very nice day."

He looked up into the bright sky.

"Yes, that's what I'll do, I'll take him for a walk."

"Oh!" She went down the steps, her riding crop whipping against her leather boots.

He watched them ride away, then turned indoors. She had set the germ of a thought alive in his mind and he said to himself, "Why not? why not?" It would be a prelude to the final act; it would show him the child's reaction to her and the place. Not that he would allow the child to live there; but it wouldn't do any harm for him to see it, as young as he was.

Early memories left an impression; he could remember happenings in his own life right back to when he was two years old.

But he did not immediately put" his plan into action. Rather, he ordered himself and the child an early lunch and informed the nurse that he would not require her to attend them on their walk that afternoon.

So it was around two o'clock when the nurse brought the child down to the hall. He was muffled to the eyes against the cold; he wore white kid boots and white gaiters. These came well up under his three Hannel petticoats. He wore a blue woollen dress heavily embroidered with silks, and over this a blue melton cloth coat lined with fur; on his head was a bonnet-shaped hat to match, out of which his cheeks poked like two rosy apples.

He held out his hand to his father, saying, "Are we going to the sea.

Papa? " and Clive replied, " No, not today; just for a walk. "

"Are we going to the farm?"

"Perhaps."

The child looked up at him solemnly now and asked, "Will you take me on your big ship one day, Papa?" And to this Clive answered with a laugh,

"Now that's more than likely, more than likely."