“Oh, do, do; she will so like it.  And now, my darling boy, tell your poor mother whether or no you can forgive her.”

He clasped her in his arms, and kissed her again and again, but for a time he could find no utterance.  Presently he smiled, and said, “Of course I do, but it is you who should forgive me, for was it not all my fault?”

When Yram, too, had become more calm, she said, “It is late, and we have no time to lose.  Higgs’s coming at this time is mere accident; if he had had news from Erewhon he would have known much that he did not know.  I cannot guess why he has come—­probably through mere curiosity, but he will hear or have heard—­yes, you and he talked about it—­of the temple; being here, he will want to see the dedication.  From what you have told me I feel sure that he will not make a fool of himself by saying who he is, but in spite of his disguise he may be recognised.  I do not doubt that he is now in Sunch’ston; therefore, to-morrow morning scour the town to find him.  Tell him he is discovered, tell him you know from me that he is your father, and that I wish to see him with all good-will towards him.  He will come.  We will then talk to him, and show him that he must go back at once.  You can escort him to the statues; after passing them he will be safe.  He will give you no trouble, but if he does, arrest him on a charge of poaching, and take him to the gaol, where we must do the best we can with him—­but he will give you none.  We need say nothing to the Professors.  No one but ourselves will know of his having been here.”

On this she again embraced her son and left him.  If two photographs could have been taken of her, one as she opened the door and looked fondly back on George, and the other as she closed it behind her, the second portrait would have seemed taken ten years later than the first.

As for George, he went gravely but not unhappily to his own room.  “So that ready, plausible fellow,” he muttered to himself, “was my own father.  At any rate, I am not son to a fool—­and he liked me.”

CHAPTER X:  MY FATHER, FEARING RECOGNITION AT SUNCH’-STON, BETAKES HIMSELF TO THE NEIGHBOURING TOWN OF FAIRMEAD

I will now return to my father.  Whether from fatigue or over-excitement, he slept only by fits and starts, and when awake he could not rid himself of the idea that, in spite of his disguise, he might be recognised, either at his inn or in the town, by some one of the many who had seen him when he was in prison.  In this case there was no knowing what might happen, but at best, discovery would probably prevent his seeing the temple dedicated to himself, and hearing Professor Hanky’s sermon, which he was particularly anxious to do.

So strongly did he feel the real or fancied danger he should incur by spending Saturday in Sunch’ston, that he rose as soon as he heard any one stirring, and having paid his bill, walked quietly out of the house, without saying where he was going.