"Your son, my dear lady," were the colonel's first words. "It is of your son I wish to speak to you."

"I shall be glad indeed to talk to you about my Geoffrey," was Pearla's sad answer, the colonel perusing her approvingly. There was, indeed, a winsomeness, a witchery about her that struck even unsensitive eyes. He gazed, he cleared his throat, he began.

"You must have observed my keen interest in that lad of yours, madam, from the first; a lad of parts, a fine lad, a good lad I am sure." "I hope so," Pearla replied meekly.

"You may be quite sure of it-quite sure of it, Lady Auriol," replied her visitor in his blunt, decided manner. "But-" Here he stopped short; that look, and that ominous "but," causing Pearla a thrill of apprehension. All other thoughts, and vague fears, and promptings of her heart vanished now. She could think only of her boy, and looked eagerly towards the colonel, eyes, lips asking an explanation without words.

"But," continued the interlocutor, "Geoffrey has entered upon the dangerous period of life dividing the boy from the man: every step of the way is fraught with temptation which the most watchful mother cannot avert."

"I know that, alas, too well!" Pearla said, happy to talk of her darling to a man of the colonel's experience and high character, but dreading now every moment lest he should develop an equally strong interest in herself. "Of course, when he has reached man's estate the reins must be loosened a little. A young man must, for good or for evil, be left somewhat to his own devices; but with a boy of sixteen it is different. Your rule is sadly lax, my dear madam. Excuse me for saying so-sadly lax!

Pearla's cheeks reddened like a child's under reproof.

"I feel that I ought to have insisted upon sending my son to a public school," she said very meekly. "But he naturally wanted to stay with me. I as naturally wanted to keep him. I yielded against my better judgment." "A maternal indiscretion, my dear lady, which does you honour. Still I must warn you against giving way to your feelings in matters so vital to your boy's welfare as his education. Pray excuse my freedom. I feel the deepest interest in-you-your son-you both." Here the colonel reddened as guiltily as Pearla had done a minute or two before. "And I feel bound to tell you that-" here Pearla bent her head over her embroideryframe in the greatest trepidation" that

Master Geoffrey has taken to smoking in secret."

The needlework fell from Pearla's hands; and now shame, not shyness, was dyeing her cheeks rosy-red.

"Oh!" she cried in a troubled voice, "must I really believe this?"

"My dear madam," said the colonel, bent upon consoling Pearla first, and unbosoming himself afterwards, "remember this is a boyish offence- a mere childish vagary; but it shows that extreme caution and watchfulness are necessary; in fact, if not necessary now, when when, indeed, in a boy's career? Do not needlessly distress yourself. The best youngster in the world has secrets from his mother."

"I have had him perpetually with me. I have made him my friend, my companion, on purpose that there should be no concealment," Pearla added, greatly distressed. "I thought my Geoff's heart was still as guileless as when I held him a baby on my knees."

"So it may be," the colonel replied, kindly and confidentially. "A surreptitious cigar cannot be construed into undutifulness or want of proper affection. But it must open your eyes to the temptations that beset your son. He needs supervision-fatherly care."

"If only Mr. Durham had stayed," Pearla cried involuntarily. Alike in small troubles as in great, she always thought wistfully of him.

"Mr. Durham, madam," replied her visitor curtly, "Mr. Durham is all very well, but a paid bear-leader, a professional guardian, is not what Geoffrey wants. Mr. Durham, forsooth," and the rest of the sentence was uttered almost with scorn, was not in my mind then, but a very different person, madamone whose social position would inspire your son with respect, whose very profession suggests authority." He drew himself up to his full height, and added in a quick, military voice, "Lady Auriol, confess that you do not misunderstand me. You must own your sex is never imposed upon in such cases. You can but see that my interest in your son's welfare arises from a deeper interest still in your own."

Pearla had been looking at the timepiece during this little speech, wondering if to-day were one of Geoff's short school-days, longing to have his arms thrown roughly round her neck, his tear-wet cheek pressed to hers with a thousand promises of amendment. the colonel must be answered.

But

"Do not be precipitate. What I say is said for once and for all," he continued in the same brief, sententious manner. "Think over it at your leisure."

"You do me great honour," Pearla began. "Your regard, your interest in my boy will always be most valuable to me. But I live for him; I have no thought except for him." "A very natural and proper sentiment; nevertheless, remember you are young, Lady Auriol. You will think differently some day; most likely ere long. You will in time even see that it is to your son's interest to think differently. Young madcaps of his age need a firm hand, a stronger rule than yours. You want already advice, protection, worldly experience."

Just then Pearla heard the door-bell ring rather noisily, and her heart beat quickly. It must be Geoff! In a moment he would burst in upon them. She rose and held out her hand, signifying that the interview had

come to an end.

"I am very glad to have you for a friend. That is all I can say," she said, and with such winningness, such an entreaty for reconciliation, that a rougher heart than the soldier's must have been touched.

"And right gladly will I be your friend," was the hearty reply. Then feeling, perhaps, inwardly relieved at the turn affairs had taken, Pearla's second suitor made his adieu friendlily. He was conscious moreover of a twinge of conscience-an inner glow of remorse at having dreamed of asking so fair and sweet a woman to marry him simply from interested motives. It was not, indeed, Pearla's self he had demanded, but the advantages of her wealth and position for his motherless daughter. Thenceforward, instead of bearing malice, he would become Pearla's most devoted knight, thus making amends.

But instead of Geoff, another visitor was announced. The Admiral desired an interview.

This was too much.

"I will see him to-morrow," Pearla said desperately, a vision flashing before her mind's eye of possibly the same kind of scene, a third time, repeated. "Any time to-morrow. For the rest of the day I receive no visitors." Then she shut herself up in her room, awaiting her boy with such flutterings of the heart as only he could inspire.

CHAPTER XII.-FORESHADOWINGS.

WHO cannot sympathize with the breathlessly expectant Pearla as she hearkened for the footsteps of her prodigal? Pearla waited and listened, her heart beating quicker at the sound of voice and footfall, her mind intent on the coming interview, framing alternate appeal and reproach, picturing

solace to come after weeping, a blissful close to sorrowful day. She had only this boy to love, and he was the dream-child of so many longing, unloved years. Who can wonder at her deep concern?

And suddenly he came. The hall door was opened and shut with an unmistakable schoolboy's clang, there was a heavy hop, skip, and a jump on the tesselated floor of the entrance hall, a loud, joyous "Mamma, mamma, where are you?" and in he burst, flinging his arms around her neck with a rough embrace, pressing his cheeks, soft and round as a year-old bantling's, to her | own.

"But what is the matter, mamma-why do you look so grave?" asked the boy, looking smilingly into her face. "Has anything happened?"

"Oh, Geoff!" Pearla said, holding him closer and closer to her. The more his fault, the more need he had of her love. "Oh, my darling, why did you not tell me ?” Geoff broke from her with the same air of happy innocence.

Why," Pearla went on, "did you not tell me that, instead of taking tea with Mr. Ashleigh, you had been amusing yourself with low boys of the town?"

Again Geoff excused himself with his light-hearted laugh and steady, unabashed gaze. There was a touch of impatience in his voice, and that was all.

"Mamma dear, I should have told you— of course-had you asked me. But, if you remember, you had gone to bed with a headache that evening, and I forgot all about it next day. It is a little dull at Mr. Ashleigh's now, you know, I have seen all his old volumes of Punch so many times, and the militia was to march in procession through the town with a rifle corps band. I followed with Sammie and Tommie, our old boatman's lads, instead of going to tea to Mr. Ashleigh's. That is all."

"And what kind of lads are they?" "Very nice, mamma. But who has been sneaking to you? Do tell me." "Things come out without sneaking," Pearla replied, watching him in silence, a great load being gradually lifted from her mind by his unwavering candour. She must believe that there had been no intentional deceit, no conscious, or at least premeditated wrong-doing. Whilst she watched him, now playing at cup and ball as carelessly as if the whole matter were already forgotten, she joyfully welcomed a returning sense of trust and security. Still, there was room for

future misgivings, indeed, if not of reproof, of warning.

"Geoff," she said, putting her arms round him as they sat on the sofa side by side, the pair presenting the strangest contrast to a painter, her face kindled with holiest passion, his engrossed in the trifling pastime of the moment, "Geoff, I cannot be quite happy about you, unless you tell me everything. You should not have the smallest secret from your mother."

"Nor have I, mamma," answered the lad, still a little impatient; "nor do I mean to have-till I am a man.'

Pearla said no more then; she pondered; like all mothers, she knew that there was an impressionable moment, a vulnerable spot, a sympathetic vein in the playfullest natures, and she determined to seize her opportunity. The evening ended happily. The mighty magician, Walter Scott, swayed here, as in every other English household, and no sooner was tea over than Pearla brought out "The Bride of Lammermoor." Geoff, seated in an easy-chair, his long limbs stretched out, his hands in his pockets, his brown curls over his intent brow, looked the very personification of youthful literary enjoyment as he listened to perhaps the most wonderful love-story ever penned. What mother, indeed, has not secretly blessed this good and gentle minister of delight to her children; what beads have not been counted to this saint over sick-beds; what worn-out minds have not owed their soothing and solace to this infallible physician! May his glorified spirit, from its unearthly abiding-place, know of the perpetual pleasure and profit he has left behind!

The supper-tray brought in, the book was put away, and soon Geoff, having said goodnight, went upstairs to bed, taking three steps at a time.

Very gently, night-lamp in hand, Pearla stole up a little later to his room, pausing a moment ere she unclosed the door. All was already so still that she thought her boy must be at his prayers, and momentarily prayed with him, her whole being breathed out in one or two passionate words such as only mothers use. Then she said Amen, and hearkened again, this time to be startled, nay, scared, by a loud scuffle in the room, as if Geoff were struggling with a burglar. Of course her hand quick as lightning unlatched the door now, her brief panic being dispelled by the spectacle of Master Geoff's long legs vanishing under the bed-clothes and a low chuckling laugh. He had only been having

a passage of arms with a tame mouse, which always crept out for a few crumbs and a gamble at this hour.

"Were you frightened, mamma ?" asked Geoff in high glee. "Did you really think it was a thief? But do come and talk to me. I am not at all sleepy yet."

Pearla put down her lamp and sat down by the bedside, caressing him as she was wont to do whenever she paid these nightly visits.

"Do you love me, my son ?" she asked so gravely that Geoff could not resist a smile, and a half-roguish, half-inquisitorial gaze into the sweet eyes that seemed melting with tenderness as he answered"Love you? I just do."

Pearla was silent for a moment, whilst her right hand played with his curls; her left lay between his large rough fingers. Then she said in the same serious, penetrating voice, and with the same unspeakably adoring look

"Then, if you love me thus, you must understand, my boy, why the least little thing you do amiss should pain me more than anything else in the world, why I was so uneasy about what I heard to-day. I want you to grow up good and strong and wise."

"Like papa!" blurted forth the boy, still without the slightest trace of sentiment, without in the least being able to measure her depth of feeling.

"I will tell you more about your father some day," she went on; "and when you understand exactly what his life was, and how it appeared even to himself, you will not wonder at my concern about what appear trifles to you. Geoff, it was your father's gravest anxiety lest you should fall into bad habits and bad company in your youth. Shall I tell you why? Because he knew the evil of it, because he would have given worlds on his dying bed, had he hearkened to good counsels when a boy."

"But papa was just what you would wish me to be, was he not, mamma?" Geoff asked, not yet getting sleepy, only wishing that his mother would entertain him with stories of adventure in her island, instead of moral discourse.

She kept silence for a minute or two, longing, yet not daring, to make the closest friend of her boy, to have him for once and for all her confidant, her consoler, her support. Then she answered very sadly and slowly, hoping that her words would drop into his inmost soul, and there take root and grow

"My Geoff, your father, as all fathers should, had higher ambitions for you than that.

hension at the visions that flitted before her mind's eye, each more appalling than the last. What would become of her if in deed and verity Geoff took to evil courses? It must break her heart, and, as always happens in such cases, one conviction, one proof of guilt, like a stray hornet, but led the way to

a nestful.

That evening nothing was said to the unconscious Geoff, who came home to tea with the most babyishly innocent air. Pearla waited to see if any allusion would be made to his escapade in the waggon, but, as Geoff's lips remained sealed on the subject, she determined to wait. Truth must be told, she dreaded a lie. The lad noticed her pale looks, and asked if she were ill, to which query Pearla replied, no, she was not ill, only tired, allowing him to caress and fondle her as usual, saying to herself, forcing herself into the belief, "He is guileless at bottom; he knows not what he is doing."

"Mamma," asked the boy as he hung about her over his lingering good-night, "mamma, all the money you gave me is gone. May I have some more ?"

Pearla looked at him in the utmost amazement.

"My dearest boy," she replied with that sweet serenity of tone which had awed him and kept him in check once or twice before, "remember what Mr. Durham said."

"And what was that?" asked Geoff, opening his large blue eyes, no little astonished, too, at her unexpected manner.

"That till you can earn money you ought to take conscientious account of every penny you spend, looking upon it as so much borrowed out of your future capital."

"Oh, mamma!" laughed the boy indifferently. "What need have I to earn money when papa was so rich ?"

"Your father would not have been rich had he not worked hard in the early part of his life," Pearla replied, still practical and, to Geoff's thinking, a little cold, nay, unkind. He stood before her, shifting from right foot to left, and left to right again, evidently awaiting a more favourable answer. At last, as Pearla gave no sign, he said, keeping his mind to the immediate question involved, "You will give me some money, will you not, mamma dear ?"

"Well," Pearla answered, determined to suspend her judgment for the present, and not to let him see what was passing in her mind, "will you give me an exact account of how you spent the last."

give you one of some sort," replied the boy gaily. "I have not entered the pennies, of course," and thereupon he caracoled off to bed, his mother's more cheerful answer having quite restored his spirits.

Neither the promised document nor the money was forthcoming next morning, however, and Geoff went off to his tutor's with almost a sullen look on his usually buoyant face, which Pearla pretended not to see. Without saying a word to any living soul, for the thought of setting spies on her boy was unendurable to her, she now kept the strictest watch over him, noting his ingoings and outgoings with a jealous eye, prying with par donable inquisition among his belongings, sighing, sickening, desolately praying, we may be sure, over the least little indication of moral depravity or down-hill tastes.

And signs were there: in one pocket a tattered number or two of the literature hawked among street-boys, in another a bundle of cigars, little things in themselves, yet evidence of worse to come. Nor could Pearla misread the looks of her household, Fairfax, the old man-servant, especially, who had taken quite a fatherly interest in the boy. More than once he began

"I have come to speak about Master Geoffrey," those words being the prelude to painful disclosures. "Tale-bearing is little to my taste," he said at last, driven into the plainest of speech. "But Master Geoffrey wants a rein, ma'am-a man's yea and nay to stay him in his thoughtless ways. He's past the leadership of womankind. Excuse me, my lady——"

"I am very grateful to you," Pearla said, pressing the old man's hand. "Yes, I see it, I feel it. I have no hold on my son's conscience. He follows his own devices without thinking of his mother. But you have nothing fresh to tell me?" she asked, glancing at him with a look of anguish.

The old man shook his head. "I have seen lads without Master Geoff's good heart ruined ere now from sheer good luck. What I fear is, that good luck will ruin him, my lady. He has too much money to spend, and of course he spends it amiss."

"How amiss ?" asked Pearla.

"All money that does no good is spent amiss," answered Fairfax sententiously. "And those who begin in squandering end in sin." "Oh, Fairfax, if Mr. Durham were but here!"

"Mr. Durham, madam? Mr. Durham came back a few days ago. I saw him to