CHAPTER IX.





"ELLIS, my son."

There was a little break and tremor in the voice. The young man
addressed was passing the door of his mother's room, and paused on
hearing his name.

"What is it?" he asked, stepping inside and looking curiously into
his mother's face, where he saw a more than usually serious
expression.

"Sit down, Ellis; I want to say a word to you before going to Mrs.
Birtwell's."

The lady had just completed her toilette, and was elegantly dressed
for an evening party. She was a handsome, stately-looking woman,
with dark hair through which ran many veins of silver, large,
thoughtful eyes and a mouth of peculiar sweetness.

The young man took a chair, and his mother seated herself in front
of him.

"Ellis."