It was a bad day for Caterham to receive any one except his most intimate friends, and assuredly his mother was not included in that category. He was any thing but well bodily, and the conversation about Lionel had thoroughly unstrung his nerves; so that he was just about to say he must ask for a postponement of the visit, when Stephens said, "Her ladyship asked me if Mr. Barford wasn't here, my lord, and seemed particularly anxious to see him." Lord Caterham felt the colour flush in his cheeks as the cause of his mother's visit was thus innocently explained by Stephens; but the moment after he smiled, and sent to beg that she would come whenever she pleased. In a very few minutes Lady Beauport sailed into the room, and, after shaking hands with Algy Barford in, for her, quite a cordial manner, she touched her son's forehead with her lips and dropped into the chair which Stephens had placed for her near the sofa. "How are you, Arthur, to day?" she commenced. "You are looking quite rosy and well, I declare. I am always obliged to come myself when I want to know about your health; for they bring me the most preposterous reports. That man of yours is a dreadful kill-joy, and seems to have inoculated the whole household with his melancholy, where you are concerned. Even Miss Maurice, who is really quite a cheerful person, and quite pleasant to have about one,--equable spirits, and that sort of thing, you know, Mr. Barford; so much more agreeable than those moping creatures who are always thinking about their families and their fortunes, you know,--even Miss Maurice can scarcely be trusted for what I call a reliable report of Caterham." "It's the interest we take in him, dear Lady Beauport, that keeps us constantly on the _qui vive_. He's such a tremendously lovable old fellow, that we're all specially careful about him;" and Algy's hand went round to the back of Caterham's sofa and his eyes glistened as before. "Of course," said Lady Beauport, still in her hard dry voice. "With care, every thing may be done. There's Alice Wentworth, Lady Broughton's grand-daughter, was sent away in the autumn to Torquay, and they all declared she could not live. And I saw her last night at the French embassy, well and strong, and dancing away as hard as any girl in the room. It's a great pity you couldn't have gone to the embassy last night, Arthur; you'd have enjoyed it very much." "Do you think so, mother?" said Caterham with a sad smile. "I scarcely think it would have amused me, or that they would have cared much to have me there." "O, I don't know; the Duchess de St. Lazare asked after you very kindly, and so did the Viscomte, who is--" and Lady Beauport stopped short. "Yes, I know--who is a cripple also," said Caterham quietly. "But he is only lame; he can get about by himself. But if I had gone, I should have wanted Algy here to carry me on his back."