Mrs. Paragon arrived late in the afternoon. Peter could not be made to perceive her, and a physician was sent for from London.

Mrs. Paragon sat with Peter through the night, stifling her fear. His talk perplexed her in the extreme. The empty house where he wandered became as real to her as the room in which she sat. He had gone there to find Miranda, and this it was that so grieved and puzzled his mother. Peter had never once spoken of Miranda since the night he had arranged to go to London for the first time. She did not think he had of late thought of Miranda. Had he been eating his heart in secret?

The farmer\'s granddaughter waited upon Mrs. Paragon through the night. They talked only of his condition, but Mrs. Paragon noted her extreme interest in the patient.

Towards the morning they were together by the bedside. Peter had begun again to talk, and Mrs. Paragon suddenly saw the girl shrink away. Then almost immediately she turned and left the room.

Mrs. Paragon bent to listen. Peter was treading again the weary round of his thoughts of the[Pg 178] preceding day. After a few moments his mother\'s face became very thoughtful.

When in the morning the girl brought her some breakfast, she said to her quietly:

"How long have you been here?"

"Two days." Already the girl knew she was detected.

"What has happened to my son?"

"How am I to know better than the doctor?" she countered.

"You know very well indeed."

"He is nothing to me."

Mrs. Paragon inexorably faced her:

"How could you be so wicked?" she said in a low voice.

"What do you mean?"

"You are not surprised when I talk to you of my son, and you have been here only two days."

Peter\'s mother stood like marble. The girl saw she was open to be read. Her pride was broken.

"Do not send me away," she pleaded. "I must know whether he lives or dies."

"What right have you to know?"

The girl was silent, and Mrs. Paragon shivered. She hardly dared be made sure.

"Has my son belonged to you?"

"No."

The girl hated to confess it, but quickly used it as a plea:

"Now will you let me stay?" she entreated.

Mrs. Paragon turned coldly away.

[Pg 179]

"Please go," she commanded.

The girl was struck into a hopeless humility.

"I will not trouble him again," she pleaded.

"I myself shall see to that."

Mrs. Paragon spoke calmly, and did not stir. Peter lay on the bed safely in her shadow.

The girl looked her farewell at him and passed out.

The specialist from London arrived before noon. He at once took a cheerful view. After listening to the local doctor\'s account of Peter\'s night, and examining the patient himself, he relieved Mrs. Paragon of her fears.

"What\'s the boy been doing?" he asked, after deciding there was nothing to keep him in Worcestershire. "This might well be mistaken for a touch of the sun," he said, smiling at the local man, "but it\'s not quite so simple. It looks as if he\'d been trying to put himself straight with things, and not quite succeeded. He\'s suffering from acute mental excitement, but he\'s a healthy youngster and his temperature\'s falling. He won\'t talk any more."

"There\'s a thing that rather puzzles me, doctor," Mrs. Paragon hesitated.

"Well?"

"My son has been troubled, greatly troubled, by someone here, but most of his talk was about someone else."

"I don\'t quite understand."

"He has talked of a girl I thought he had[Pg 180] forgotten. At least I did not think she had lately been in his mind."

"Very likely not, Mrs. Paragon. The mind\'s not at all a simple thing. Usually in cases like this the memories which come uppermost are things forgotten. We call it the subconscious self. This girl your son has been talking about—probably he does not know that he remembers her. Perhaps—of course I don\'t know all the circumstances—he has not thought of he............