He saluted her; but she looked gravely and yet alarmedly, and then in a sudden, illy-repressed panic, upon him. Then he knew he must be wonderfully changed. But his mother spoke not to him, only to return his good-morning. He saw that she was deeply offended with him, on many accounts; moreover, that she was vaguely frightened about him, and finally that notwithstanding all this, her stung pride conquered all apprehensiveness in her; and he knew his mother well enough to be very certain that, though he should unroll a magician's parchment before her now, she would verbally express no interest, and seek no explanation from him. Nevertheless, he could not entirely abstain from testing the power of her reservedness. "I have been quite an absentee, sister Mary," said he, with ill-affected pleasantness. "Yes, Pierre. How does the coffee suit you this morning? It is some new coffee." "It is very nice; very rich and odorous, sister Mary." "I am glad you find it so, Pierre." "Why don't you call me brother Pierre?" "Have I not called you so? Well, then, brother Pierre,--is that better?" "Why do you look so indifferently and icily upon me, sister Mary?" "Do I look indifferently and icily? Then I will endeavor to look otherwise. Give me the toast there, Pierre." "You are very deeply offended at me, my dear mother." "Not in the slightest degree, Pierre. Have you seen Lucy lately?" "I have not, my mother." "Ah! A bit of salmon, Pierre." "You are too proud to show toward me what you are this moment feeling, my mother." Mrs. Glendinning slowly rose to her feet, and her full stature of womanly beauty and majesty stood imposingly over him. "Tempt me no more, Pierre. I will ask no secret from thee; all shall be voluntary between us, as it ever has been, until very lately, or all shall be nothing between us. Beware of me, Pierre. There lives not that being in the world of whom thou hast more reason to beware, so you continue but a little longer to act thus with me." She reseated herself, and spoke no more. Pierre kept silence; and after snatching a few mouthfuls of he knew not what, silently quitted the table, and the room, and the mansion. III. As the door of the breakfast-room closed upon Pierre, Mrs. Glendinning rose, her fork unconsciously retained in her hand. Presently, as she paced the room in deep, rapid thought, she became conscious of something strange in her grasp, and without looking at it, to mark what it was, impulsively flung it from her. A dashing noise was heard, and then a quivering. She turned; and hanging by the side of Pierre's portrait, she saw her own smiling picture pierced through, and the fork, whose silver tines had caught in the painted bosom, vibratingly rankled in the wound. She advanced swiftly to the picture, and stood intrepidly before it.