Fulvia brought forward a glass of water. "Take some of this," she said, adding in a whisper, "Don't give way, madre; it will worry him." The words had less effect than Fulvia intended. Mrs. Browning turned from her, and broke into one grieved utterance—"Nigel, my own boy! Don't leave off loving me!" "My dear mother! As if that were possible!" Young men are not perhaps as a rule peculiarly tolerant of needless hysterics; but Nigel was patient, holding her in his strong arms, and trying to soothe the real though unfounded sorrow. Fulvia would not let the little scene continue. "It was too bad," she murmured, "just after his coming home!" And then she blamed herself for blaming the sweet madre; but none the less she separated the two, insisted on water being taken, laughed, joked, and saw Mrs. Browning off to her room. "I'll be back directly," she said to Nigel; and in five minutes or less she returned. As she expected, he was in the drawing-room still, standing on the rug, with folded arms and eyes intent. "Are you very tired?" she asked abruptly, beginning to fold some of the work which lay about. "Tidying up" was a task which somehow always devolved on Fulvia Rolfe. One marked Browning characteristic was disorderliness in small matters; while Fulvia could never endure to see anything left out of its rightful place. "No, I believe not. It is late," he said, rousing himself again with a manifest effort. "You have not heard any bad news to-day?" "Is there bad news to be heard?" "Not that I'm aware of. You look as if you had something on your mind. That made me ask. But the botherations this evening are enough to account for it—nearly! If only people had a little common-sense, and wouldn't manufacture troubles to order. However, you will not think that nobody is glad to see you back." Nigel laughed. "Of course—you know what it is all worth. How did the padre's condition strike you? Was he in bed?" "No. I can't judge so soon. It seems to me that he ought to have advice." "If only for the sake of his own peace of mind, not to speak of the madre's. He doesn't look ill, at all events. You thought he did! Odd! I should have said he was the picture of health. Then perhaps you will encourage his going abroad." Nigel had not heard of the scheme, and she enlightened him. "Of course there is no real difficulty—except the expense. Somehow, padre is always and for ever talking now about expenses—why, I can't imagine. And except also for family traditions connected with twenty-first birthdays. We made such a fuss about yours before you left, that the girls have had it in their heads ever since to make a fuss about mine." "Heiresses usually expect something of a stir on those occasions."