The impression produced on the mind of Charles Tyrrell by the account which his mother gave him, was certainly anything but pleasant in regard to Mistress and Miss Effingham; and certain it is that, although he, as well as Lady Tyrrell, made up their minds to perform every external act of civility, yet there was a predetermination on the part of both to make that civility so cold and icy as to cut short every project of an alliance with one whom they were resolved to dislike. Their conversation then turned to other subjects, on which it is not necessary to dwell; and the only thing which occurred further between the mother and son worthy of remark, was, that Charles Tyrrell, who had always entertained a great antipathy to the name of Lucy, took pains to repeat it with particular emphasis whenever the conversation returned to Mistress and Miss Effingham. In the evening Lady Tyrrell came down to dinner, which she had not done for several days before; and willing to make her son's return home as cheerful as she could, she restrained, as far as possible, every appearance of bearing in mind the dispute between her husband and herself, though it had thrown her into a fit of illness. Acting on the same principle, she suffered Mr. Driesen to take her unresisting hand, and in reply to several speeches, which he purposely rendered extravagantly gallant, she uttered some civil words, of course. Sir Francis, in the course of his walk, seemed to have been tutored to politeness by Mr. Driesen, and both to his wife and son behaved with an unusual degree of courteousness, though the very nature and constitution of his mind prevented him from abstaining altogether from an occasional sneer or sarcasm. In fact, his very politeness savoured thereof, and there was nine times out of ten as much bitter as sweet in everything he said. On the whole, however, the evening passed over more pleasantly than usual; and though both Lady Tyrrell and her son were well aware that no real change for the better had taken place, they were only too anxious to protract, as long as possible, the temporary suspension of strife and irritation. It was to be remarked, too, that every time Mr. Driesen found Sir Francis Tyrrell touching upon dangerous ground, he skilfully contrived to draw him away, by throwing some new element into the conversation of such a kind as he knew Sir Francis Tyrrell would dash at, forgetful of what went before. Thus the whole party were, in fact, in a much more placable mood, when the rush of a carriage wheels was heard indistinctly through the open doors, and a loud peal upon the bell called the servants to the gate. CHAPTER V.