It is an awful moment when a nature built on pride begins to crumble. The crash follows swiftly on the warning. Extremes tumble together; the loftier the edifice the more complete its collapse. The upbraidings of the monitor--harsh, unrelenting, awfully distinct--dinned in my lady's ears as she paced with muffled head between the hedges of the rosary. Presently she heard a murmur. No! That was not conscience. Those were human voices--the voices of her sons--arguing in a high key. Great heavens! they were quarrelling. With a stealthy step, holding her mantle in close folds lest its rustle should betray the presence of an eavesdropper, she stole along under the lofty hedge. Shane was in his hunting-suit. He was surrounded by his hounds. They sniffed about and rolled on the damp grass, making their toilet in dog fashion, to clean their muddy backs. Eblana and Aileach sat on their hams gazing at their master with wistful heads poised on one side. Shane stood facing his mother, who marked that the muscles of his face were twitching, while his limbs shook with passion. Terence had his back to her--a tall, quiet figure, distinct against a faded sky which was faint with the glare of a departed sun. His broad, square shoulders stood out distinctly from a light background of misty hedge, of blotted, translucent pink, and pale yellow, and blue-green, across which streamed a troop of darkling phantoms--crows cawing off to roost. Shane's hunting-whip sawed the air, as he passed it from one nervous hand to the other. He was always so ready with his whip. It seemed as much as he could do to withhold its sinuous thong from off his brother. Terence was speaking. My lady held her breath to listen. 'I speak to you as from the grave,' he said. 'My life is done. A week or two at most, and my place will be vacant--my shadow will darken the threshold of my ancestors no more. Take care, my brother! When you look on my empty seat let the sad memory of me be precious on your hearth, untarnished by regret. You are the head of the house. Do not forget the responsibilities to which you are born. Look at the tapestry in the drawing-room, and follow the example of your fathers. Do your duty by them; be without fear and without reproach. Do not earn for yourself among the family pictures an empty frame from which posterity shall have wrenched the portrait.'