BLACK SHEEP!

BY THE AUTHOR OF "LAND AT LAST," "KISSING THE ROD,"
&C. &C.

CHAPTER II. IN THE HOUSEKEEPER'S ROOM.

GEORGE DALLAS had eaten but sparingly of
the food which Mrs. Brookes had placed before
him. He was weary and excited, and he bore
the delay and the solitude of the housekeeper's
room with feverish impatience. He strode up
and down the room, stopping occasionally before
the fire to kick at the crumbling logs, and
glance at the clock, which marked how rapidly
the night was waning. Half an hour, which
seemed three times as much to him, had elapsed
since Mrs. Brookes had left him. Faintly and
indistinctly the sounds of the music reached
him, adding to his irritation and weariness. A
savage frown darkened his face, and he muttered
to himself in the same tone as that of his
spasmodic soliloquy in the avenue:

"I wonder if she's thinking that I ought to
be there too; or if I ought not, neither ought
she. After all, I'm her son, and she might
make a stand–up fight for me, if she would.
He's fond of her, the old woman says, and
proud of her, and well he may be. What's
the use of it all, if she can't manage him?
What fools women are! If they only could
calculate at first, and take their own line from
the beginning, they could manage any men.
But she's afraid of him, and she lets him find
it out. Well, well, it must be wretched enough
for her, too. But why does she not come?"

He had to wait a little longer yet, for another
quarter of an hour had elapsed before Mrs.
Brookes returned.

"Is she coming?" he asked eagerly, when at
length the pale–faced little woman gently entered
the room.

"Yes, she is coming. She has to wait until
the first lot are gone in to supper. Then master
will not miss her."

The old woman came up to him, and took his
right hand in hers, looking fondly, but keenly,
into his face, and laying the other hand upon
his shoulder. "George," she said, "George, my
darling boy, I hope you have not brought her
very bad news."

He tried to laugh as he loosed his hand, not
unkindly, from the old woman's grasp.

"Do you suppose good news would have
brought me here, where I am forbidden—
smuggled goods?"

She shook her head sorrowfully.

"At all events, you are alive and well to tell
your ill news yourself, and that is everything to
her," said Mrs. Brookes.

The next moment the door opened, and Mrs.
Carruthers came in with a hurried step. George
Dallas started forward, and caught her in his
arms.

"Mother! mother!"

"My boy, my darling boy!" were the only
words spoken between them, until they were
quite alone.

Mrs. Brookes left the room, and the young
man was free to explain his untimely visit.

"I dread to ask what brings you here,
George," said his mother, as she seated herself
upon the heavy sofa, and drew him to her side.
"I cannot but rejoice to see you, but I am
afraid to ask you why you come."

A mingling of pleasure and apprehension
shook her voice, and heightened her colour.

"You may well dread to ask me, mother,"
replied the young man, gloomily. "You may
well dread to ask what brings me, outcast as I
am, to your fine home, to the place where your
husband is master, and where my presence is
forbidden."

"George, George!" said his mother, in a tone
of grief and remonstrance.

"Well. I know it's no fault of yours,
but it's hard to bear for all that, and I'm not
quite such a monster as I am made out to be, to
suit Mr. Carruthers's purposes. I'm not so very
much worse than the young men, mother, whose
step–fathers, or whose own fathers either, don't
find it necessary to forbid them the house. But
you're afraid of him, mother, and——"

"George," said Mrs. Carruthers, quietly, but
sternly, "you did not come here to see me for
the first time in nine months, at the risk of
being turned out of Mr. Carruthers's house,
simply to vent your anger upon him, and to
accuse me wrongfully, and taunt me with what
I am powerless to prevent. Tell me what has
brought you here. I can stay with you only a
little while; at any moment I may be missed.
Tell me what has brought you against my
husband's commands, contrary to my own
entreaties, though it is such a delight to me to
see you even so." And the mother put her
arms around the neck of her prodigal son, and