CHAPTER X. ‘Bear not false witness; let the lie Have time on its own wings to fly.’ One fine morning, Mrs. Mallory, her son, and Hugo von Birkenau sat at breakfast, and the young men maintained a decorous silence while the lady held forth on what was at present her favourite topic, the approaching ball at Castle Hill, in honour of Helena’s coming of age. ‘Helena will be the belle at her own ball,’ she observed. ‘I called the other day, and Mrs. Spenceley showed me her dress. It had just come from Paris. It is perfectly exquisite. Even you, Sebastian, will be able to find no fault with that toilette.’ ‘Black velvet, diamonds, and point lace?’ he suggested. ‘That would be just like her, and then it is a costume on which you may spend an indefinite amount of money.’ ‘How ill-natured you are! It is a charming dress, and she will look lovely in it. I hope you have secured one dance, at any rate, or you will have no chance now.’ He confessed that he had not acted with sufficient spirit in that respect; he had never even thought of asking for a dance. ‘Then I am sure she will be very much hurt. She let me see the other day that she thought a great deal about your coming.’ ‘If she did, she is not the girl I take her for,’ said he, looking rather impatient. It was not Mrs. Mallory’s fault if her son remained sceptical on the subject of Helena Spenceley’s _penchant_ for him. She had long ago seen that it was useless for her to dangle Helena’s hundred thousand pounds before his eyes; he would none of it, whereas to Mrs. Mallory it was an ornament which grew more becoming and more desirable the longer she looked at it. She had discovered, or thought she had discovered, that Sebastian was very anxious not to hurt the feelings of any one, by neglect or unkindness, ‘that is, of any one but myself,’ as she plaintively told herself--and she thought that if she pictured in colours strong enough the affection which she was determined Helena had for him, this sensitiveness of his might lead to the desired results--sooner or later. ‘Any other man,’ Mrs. Mallory said to herself, ‘would have fallen in love with the girl for her beauty alone, if she had not had a penny; but in that case, of course, he would have fallen in love with her.’ Then she tried to excite his self-esteem, and pique his _amour propre_, by telling him that Helena was very difficult to please, and had already had half a dozen more or less eligible offers, all of which she had refused _sans façon_. ‘I can quite believe it,’ was the tranquil reply. ‘_Sans façon_ exactly describes her manner and her character as well. She has no idea of any medium. Wild enthusiasms and extravagant hatreds----’ (‘Like me,’ murmured Hugo to his plate.) ‘And I have no doubt she did refuse the “six braw gentlemen” you mention, unceremoniously enough.’