It would not be hard to find reasons for his wishing to avoid his mother.  Formerly his daily tale had been one of success, of hope, of ever increasing confidence.  Now he had nothing to tell of but danger and anxiety for the future, and he was not without a suspicion that she would strongly disapprove of his allowing himself to be kept afloat by Del Ferice’s personal influence, and perhaps by his personal aid.  It was hard to begin daily intercourse on a basis of things so different from that which had seemed solid and safe when they had last talked together.  He had learned to bear his own troubles bravely, too, and there was something which he associated with weakness in the idea of asking sympathy for them now.  He would rather have been left alone.

Deep down, too, was the consciousness of all that had happened between himself and Maria Consuelo since his mother’s departure.  Another suffering, another and distinctly different misfortune, to be borne better in silence than under question even of the most affectionate kind.  His grandfather had indeed guessed at both truths and had taxed him with them at once, but that was quite another matter.  He knew that the old gentleman would never refer again to what he had learned, and he appreciated the generous offer of help, of which he would never avail himself, in a way in which he could not appreciate an assistance even more lovingly proffered, perhaps, but which must be asked for by a confession of his own failure.

On the other hand, he was incapable of distorting the facts in any way so as to make his mother believe him more successful than he actually was.  There was nothing dishonest, perhaps, in pretending to be hopeful when he really had little hope, but he could not have represented the condition of the business otherwise than as it really stood.

The interview was a long one, and Corona’s dark face grew grave if not despondent as he explained to her one point after another, taking especial care to elucidate all that bore upon his relations with Del Ferice.  It was most important that his mother should understand how he was placed, and how Del Ferice’s continued advances of money were not to be regarded in the light of a personal favour, but as a speculation in which Ugo would probably get the best of the bargain.  Orsino knew how sensitive his mother would be on such a point, and dreaded the moment when she should begin to think that he was laying himself under obligations beyond the strict limits of business.

Corona leaned back in her low seat and covered her eyes with one hand for a moment, in deep thought.  Orsino waited anxiously for her to speak.

“My dear,” she said at last, “you make it very clear, and I understand you perfectly.  Nevertheless, it seems to me that your position is not very dignified, considering who you are, and what Del Ferice is.  Do you not think so yourself?”

Orsino flushed a little.  She had not put the point as he had expected, and her words told upon him.