‘My dear mother,’ he said, with a laugh, ‘don’t you think this hereditary policy is overdone a little? I am afraid I thought myself a person of much greater importance than I prove to be.’ ‘I don’t admit it,’ she said; ‘but is that why you are taking so much trouble for the _canaille_?’ ‘No,’ said the young man, growing red. ‘I take trouble for the _canaille_, as you call them--our poor neighbours, Miss Grey says--because I thought I was somehow responsible for them.’ ‘Responsible!’ ‘I should have been,’ he said firmly, ‘had I been their _seigneur_; which I suppose in my folly was something like what I thought: now that I know they are only our poor neighbours----’ ‘Well: you think you may at least get the benefit in popularity,’ she said, with a laugh. ‘My dear mother, as we shall never think alike on these points, don’t you think we had better choose another subject?’ ‘The subject of my calls?’ said Mrs. Swinford. ‘But how, Leo, about your own? You find a wonderful attraction in the village, I understand.’ ‘You know, I think, pretty well what attraction I find in the village,’ he said coldly; ‘I have made no secret of my doings there.’ ‘Perhaps not; but you have dwelt little upon a certain cottage. One knows how a man can be exceedingly frank in order to conceal.’ ‘There is no certain cottage,’ he said, with indignation. ‘If you mean Lady William’s, I certainly go there with pleasure, and often, and will continue to do so. In such a matter I may surely be allowed to judge for myself.’ ‘Why do you call her by that ridiculous name? It makes me laugh--if it didn’t make me furious!’ ‘What has she done to you?’ said Leo. ‘I thought you were fond of her. It has always been represented so to me. What has she done, a woman not very powerful or prosperous certainly, not coming in your way, to make you hate her so?’ ‘Not coming in my way!--But what do you know of my history or my feelings? She is already again coming in my way--with you.’ ‘That is nonsense, mother. No, I know little of your history, perhaps, except what you have told me; and as you say, excessive frankness----’ ‘You forget, I think, Leo, that you are speaking to your mother?’ ‘I never wish to do so,’ he said. ‘Believe me, mother, there is nothing I desire so much as to make you feel my anxiety, my strong desire, to do what will please you----’ ‘By bringing me to this miserable country, for example, in the middle of winter,’ she cried. Leo sprang to his feet, and began to pace about the room. ‘It is my country,’ he said. ‘If I have duties anywhere, they must be here. But I have never wished to bind you. Why, if you hate England so, should you stay here? We have always been together; but sooner than you should suffer, leave me, mother. I will bear my loneliness as best I can.’