'Why gibe at me then?' said sulky Shane. 'I--gibe? Is it likely I should jest?' 'Yes, gibe?' repeated Shane, his anger kindling, while the cicatrice stood forth purple upon his forehead. 'You know that I've been tricked. I was at the new club among a set of merry dogs, and gave orders to a porter at the house to fetch me when I was wanted. He didn't come; I didn't vote; and when I offered just now to run him through, he pleaded that he was a follower of yours, and could not possibly do that to which you would object. You! And now you come preaching like a parson! Curse you!' Terence was deeply moved. His own brother, then, was itching for his share of the silver pieces. It was due to accident alone that he had not disgraced himself. Lord Glandore growled out in exasperation: 'The chancellor will not speak to me!' and, raising the toy-whip he held, made as though he would strike his brother, giving at the same moment a kick which sent Eblana howling to the kennels. Terence recoiled from the threatened blow. At the same instant the lattice of my lady's chamber was flung open, and she, in the imperious voice of other days, cried, 'Shane! come here at once!' Now the first-born whom she adored so fondly was accustomed to yield to her when in an imperious mood. He felt guilty now and out of sorts, knowing that he was desperately in the wrong. In a sneaking manner, therefore, he threw away his switch, and, kicking aside the other hound, entered his mother's presence, clasping his splitting temples with both his palms. She was sweeping up and down as she used to do, before she took to feeble blinking in the great chair. Emotion of some kind troubled her so much that she could scarcely speak. Half frightened, Shane asked if he should fetch some water. She shook her head and muttered 'No.' Then, finding voice, she adjured him in jerky sentences which burned her tongue, to treat his brother with kindness during the short time they could be together. 'A time may come,' she said, 'when you will bitterly regret idle taunts. Do not lay up for yourself the fruits of remorse. I have eaten of them all my life, and know what they are like.' 'What nonsense!' Shane exclaimed fretfully. 'You're always blowing bladders into balloons! Don't bother. The Croppy and I will soon part to meet no more. Then perhaps you'll put aside these foolish terrors! I think your brain is softening.' 'Foolish terrors!' wailed the countess. After a moment of reflection she turned sharply round as though urged by a power beyond control. 'Shane!' she cried, stretching out her arms lest he should stop her; 'oh! if you only knew what I have endured for your sake! Listen to me----' then, sinking back on the window-seat, she drew up her limbs together, murmuring in a tone of such anguish as fairly alarmed her first-born: 'No, no! I cannot! I _will not!_ It is too much!'