After the first glance at Hubert she dropped her eyes.  He, stepping quickly across the floor, put his lips to her cheek; she did not move her head, nor raise her hand to take his.

‘Will you sit there, Hubert?’ she said, pointing to a chair which was placed opposite hers.  The resemblance between her present mode of indicating a wish and her son’s way of speaking to the servant below was very striking; even the quality of their voices had much in common, for Hubert’s was rather high-pitched.  In face, however, the young man did not strongly evidence their relation to each other:  he was not handsome, and had straight low brows, which made his aspect at first forbidding.

‘Why have you not come to me before this?’ Mrs. Eldon asked when her son had seated himself, with his eyes turned upon the fire.

‘I was unable to, mother.  I have been ill.’

She cast a glance at him.  There was no doubting the truth of what he said; at this moment he looked feeble and pain-worn.

‘Where did your illness come upon you?’ she asked, her tone unsoftened.

’In Germany.  I started only a few hours after receiving the letter in which you told me of the death.’

‘My other letters you paid no heed to?’

‘I could not reply to them.’

He spoke after hesitation, but firmly, as one does who has something to brave out.

’It would have been better for you if you had been able, Hubert.  Your refusal has best you dear.’

He looked up inquiringly.

‘Mr. Mutimer,’ his mother continued, a tremor in her voice, ‘destroyed his will a day or two before he died.’

Hubert said nothing.  His fingers, looked together before him, twitched a little; his face gave no sign.

‘Had you come to me at once,’ Mrs. Eldon pursued, ’had you listened to my entreaties, to my commands’—­her voice rang right queenly—­’this would not have happened.  Mr. Mutimer behaved as generously as he always has.  As soon as there came to him certain news of you, he told me everything.  I refused to believe what people were saying, and he too wished to do so.  He would not write to you himself; there was one all sufficient test, he held, and that was a summons from your mother.  It was a test of your honour, Hubert—­and you failed under it.’

He made no answer.

‘You received my letters?’ she went on to ask.  ’I heard you had gone from England, and could only hope your letters would be forwarded.  Did you get them?’

‘With the delay of only a day or two.’

‘And deliberately you put me aside?’

‘I did.’

She looked at him now for several moments.  Her eyes grew moist.  Then she resumed, in a lower voice—­