At this point in her self-communing, the limbs of the countess shook with palsy, and her haggard face looked really aged. Since the commencement of her married life, she had carefully eschewed Glas-aitch-é, the wild islet on Lough Swilly, where the decayed castle of Ennishowen stood, and where _that_ had taken place which was the beginning of her troubles. It would be dreadful to have to revisit that spot; yet to that sacrifice at least she was able to resign herself, hoping that it might be counted as half a penance. But Shane, would he consent to be carried thither? to forego the society of Norah, the allurements of Dublin taverns? And if he did in this much obey his mother, could the match with his cousin be in anywise promoted? My lady's brain grew weary and bewildered as she tried to fit into harmony the pieces of her puzzle. There was beloved Shane, galloping in, unkempt, from last night's debauch. So soon as he had had time to bathe and dress himself, his mother resolved to summon the dear prodigal to her presence-chamber, and try what her influence could accomplish. When her favourite son appeared before her, with two pointers gambolling about him, the countess's stern face softened; and well it might, for he was a comely spectacle. Rather low in stature, but elegantly made, with hair brushed backwards and fastened by a diamond clasp, he looked, with his delicate wan face, and eyes rendered the more lustrous for the dark circles round them, a fit guardian of the honour of Glandore. His air and manner when in his mother's presence (as, indeed, in that of Doll Tearsheet, or any other woman) assumed an exquisite blandness, such as gave a false first impression of effeminacy, which was corroborated by the tiny dimensions of his hand. But are not first impressions snares, my brethren, for the deceiving of the unwary? That gazelle-like eye could, on occasion, shoot forth a light of cold ferocity; that finely-modelled little forefinger had many a time sent a hapless boon companion to his last account for an idle jest, with a cool precision and nonchalance which compelled an unwilling sort of admiration, despite its ruffianism. But this morning he was in the best of humours, as Eblana and Aileach danced about him, wagging their tails and tumbling over and over, in their delight at his friendly notice; for his head did not burn, neither was his tongue parched, and he registered a mental resolution to send a yacht forthwith to Douglas for another hogshead or two of that especially pure claret.