Unerringly she read his thoughts, and shook her head at him with smiling
eyes, as when he made naughty faces about Aunt Jane.

"Too sacred thing for only game of play, Roy. By keeping the bracelet,
you are bound." Her smile deepened. "You were not afraid of the big rude
boy. Yet you are just _so_ much afraid--for Tara." She indicated the
amount with the rose-pink tip of her smallest finger. "Tara--almost like
sister--would never ask anything that could be wrong to do."

At this gentle rebuke he flushed and held his head a shade higher.

"I'm not afraid, Mummy. And I will keep the bracelet--and I _am_ bound."

"That is my brave son."

"She said--I am Prithvi Raj."

"She said true." Her hand caressed his hair. "Now you can run down and
tell you are forgiven."

"You too, Mummy?"

"In a little time. Not just now. But see----" Her brows flew up. "I was
coming to mend your poor bruises!"

"I haven't got any bruises."

The engaging touch of swagger delighted her. A man to-day--in very deed.
Her gaze dwelt upon him. It was as if she looked through the eyes of
her husband into the heart of her son.