'Hope you enjoyed yourself at Cork. The sea-breeze has done you good,' my lady was saying in frigid accents to her son; for she resented the unfailing good-humour of this boy who was always respectfully dutiful, as if he were not the seed of his mother's long remorse. It was the thought of him that had sent the crows to plough furrows on her face; that kept her awake sometimes all through the dreary night. If he had only reviled her, she would have preferred it to this studied courtesy. If he would only complain--but her conscience was leading her astray. He knew nothing, except that she loved him not. Why should he revile her? She had promised Lord Clare to caution him about his conduct; therefore she asked him to sit beside her. But for once he appeared undutiful, for he hurriedly postponed the invitation. 'I want to talk to you, Terence; sit by me,' she said. 'Presently, mother,' he answered. 'I will come back by-and-by; there is business that must be seen to.' Then turning his back on her, he looked towards Doreen. She was so much occupied with that scarf of Sara's that it engrossed all her attention. She would not look up. 'I have come back, Doreen,' he whispered. 'Have you nothing to ask me?' She raised her brown eyes to his for a moment. 'Nothing!' she said, then resumed her occupation. Biting his lip he turned away, to be received in the exuberant embrace of his dear Cassidy, behind whom came trooping Tom Emmett and Robert; Russell, Bond, and others hanging back waveringly, as if not quite certain how they should act. Was he not an aristocrat? Had not Miss Wolfe warned them? Was it not too likely that he should be playing a double game? How difficult a task it was to separate friends from foes!