"I thought of my child, and prayed that he might be dead. I thought of him who was not my husband, and my heart grew cold and hard. Mother, my redemption came. Yes, but with it came the meaning of the fearful words, too late. Amid the reeling madness of the life that is mocked with the name of gay, I met a good man. Yes, holy mother, a good man. Mother, he now sleeps there!"
Her pale face, serene and solemn, was lifted again, and the hand that held the crucifix was raised above her head.
"I loathed my life. He took me away from it--to the mountains--to Scotland, and a child was born. Mother, it was only then that I awoke as from a trance. It seemed as if a ring of sin begirt me. Tears--ah, me! what tears were shed. But rest and content came at last, and then we were married."
"My daughter, my daughter, little did I think when I received your vows that the enemy of your soul had so mastered you."
"Listen a little longer, holy mother. The child grew to be the image of my darling, my Paul--every feature, every glance the same. And partly to remind me of my lost one, and partly to make me forget him forever, I called the second child Paul. Mother, the years went by in peace. The past was gone from me. Only its memory lay like a waste in my silent heart. I had another son, and called him Hugh. After many years my husband died." The penitent paused.
"Mother, another thing comes back to me; but I have confessed it already. Shall I repeat it?"
"No, my daughter, not if it touches the oath that lay heavy on your heart."
"I thought my first child was dead. For thirty years I had not seen him. But the pathways of our lives crossed at last, and the woman who nursed him came to this house four days ago."
"Mother, my son, the child of that first false union, my darling, for whom I wept scalding tears long, long years ago; my Paul, whose loss was all but the loss of his mother's soul, my son is a thief and an outcast."
The lips of the superior moved again in prayer.
"He is the man known to the world as Paul Drayton--to me as Paul Lowther."
"My dear daughter, humble yourself in the midst of so awful a judgment. Do you say Drayton?--Drayton, who, as I hear, was to-day tried and sentenced?"
"No--yes--how shall I tell you?--the same and not the same. Mother, the crime was committed by my son Paul Lowther, the sentence was pronounced on my son Paul Ritson."