"Oh, hush, Cyril, my boy," panted the invalid. "Eli, my dear, pray be calm. This hurts me--hurts me more than I can tell you." "I am sorry, my dear, very sorry," cried the Rector, excitedly; "but it must be stopped. I cannot allow matters to go on as they do. It is terrible. I feel at every turn as if I were being disgraced. I shiver as I go down the town or make a call, for fear that I should have to encounter some fresh disgrace brought upon us by our own boys." "What's the matter with the governor, ma, dear?" said the young man, mockingly. "Has Frank been up to some fresh games?" "Oh, hush, my dear boy," cried the poor woman, imploringly. "I'll be as quiet as I can, dear," replied Cyril; "but there are bounds to everything. I am not a child." "No, sir, but you act like one--like a disobedient child," cried his father. "No matter what is done for you, back you come home to idle and lounge away your existence. The idea of the nobility of labour never seems to have dawned in your mind." "Never," replied Cyril, calmly. "Nobility of labour, indeed! Why, father, what's the good of quoting stuff like that to me out of one of your old sermons?" "You are utterly wasting your life, sir." "Not I, father," retorted Cyril. "I am rather enjoying it. Let those work who are obliged. Why should I make myself a slave? I like my existence very well as it is, and don't mean to bother." "It is disgraceful," cried the Rector, whose usually bland face was now fierce with anger. "Don't see it. I don't spend much, nor yet get into debt. You've got plenty of money, so why should I trouble myself about work?" "I'd forgive that," cried the Rector--"I'd forgive your idleness, but when I find that you cannot be trusted, I am compelled to speak." "But, my dear," remonstrated the invalid, "what has poor Cyril done? He did not like the wretched slavery out in the colony, and he could not content himself with the drudgery of a clerk's desk. Do not be so severe. Be patient, and he will succeed like Frank has done." "What has he done?" cried the Rector. "What is he doing but leading such a life as must disgrace us all." "Nonsense, father!" cried the young man. "It is no nonsense, sir. Months ago I spoke to you about your conduct, but it has been in vain. People in all directions are noticing your behaviour towards Miss Portlock. Just, too, when your sisters are about to make excellent matches." "Miss Portlock!" cried Mrs Mallow, starting. "Oh, Cyril!" Cyril acted like an animal brought to bay. He began to fight. While there was a chance of his father not being aware of his proceedings, he fenced and parried. Now he spoke out sharply-- "Well, what do people say about my behaviour with Miss Portlock? She's a very nice ladylike girl, well educated, and sweet and clever, and if I like to chat with her, I shall." "Oh, Cyril!" cried his mother again; and then she added, "Is this true?"