"But through it all you have not forgotten the race from whence you sprung, the name you bear. No, I do not fear that most disastrous of all mistakes which a man in your position can make--a mesalliance." He was silent, but his brows drew together. "You speak strangely, my lady," he said, almost grimly. "Yes," she assented, calmly, serenely, but with a grave intensity in her tone which lent significance to every word--"yes, I feel strongly. Every mother who has a son in your position feels as strongly, I doubt not. There are few mad things that you can do which will not admit of remedy and rectification; one of them, the worst of them, is a foolish marriage." "Marriages are made in heaven," he murmured. "No," she said, gently, "a great many are made in a very different place. But why need we talk of this? We might as well discuss whether it would be wise of you to commit manslaughter, or burglary, or suicide, or any other vulgar crime--and indeed a mesalliance would, in your case, strongly resemble one, suicide; it would be social suicide, at least; and from what I know of your nature, Leycester, I do not think that would suit you." "I think not," he said, grimly. "But, mother, I am not contemplating a matrimonial union with one of the dairymaids, not at present." She smiled. "You might commit a mesalliance with one in higher position, Leycester. But why do we talk of this?" "I think you commenced it," he said. "Did I?" she said, sweetly. "I beg your pardon. I feel as if I had insulted you by the mere chance mention of such a thing; and I have tired you, too." And she rose with queenly grace. "No, no," he said, rising, "I am very grateful, mother; you will believe that?" "Will you be more than that?" she asked, putting her hand on his shoulder, and sliding it round his neck. "Will you be obedient?" And she smiled at him lovingly. "Will I get out the handkerchief, do you mean?" he asked, looking at her with a curious gaze. "Yes," she replied; "make me happy by throwing it." "And suppose," he said, "that the favored damsel declines the honor?" "We will risk that," she murmured, with a smile. He laughed. "One would think you had already chosen, mother," he said. She looked at him, with the smile still shining in her eyes and on her lips. "Suppose I have? There is no matchmaker like a mother." He started. "You have? You surprise me! May one ask on whom your choice has fallen, sultaness?" "Think," she said, in a low voice. "I am thinking very deeply," he answered, with hidden meaning. "If I were left to choose for you, I should be very exacting, Leycester, don't you think?" "I am afraid so," he said, with a smile. "Every goose thinks her bantling a swan, and would mate it with an eagle. Forgive me, mother!" She inclined her head. "I should require much. I should want beauty, wealth----" "Of which we have too much already. Go on."