The few days intervening between her dispute with her son and the Spenceleys’ ball were, as may be supposed, not particularly pleasant ones to Mrs. Mallory. Sebastian, after his interview with Adrienne, came home, and looking into the drawing-room found his mother alone. She did not deign to notice him, but he, coming in, said to her, ‘Mother, I want to speak to you.’ ‘Well?’ ‘I proposed to Miss Blisset this evening.’ ‘Indeed!’ ‘You do not ask what reception my offer met with.’ ‘I imagine, considering your relative positions, there cannot be much need to inquire.’ ‘Still, I may as well tell you that she refused me.’ Mrs. Mallory was profoundly astonished, of course; but as, after a moment’s reflection, she did not perceive herself any nearer her real and cherished object, Sebastian’s marriage with Helena, she contented herself with uttering a sneering little laugh, and saying, in an exasperating tone-- ‘Really!’ ‘So that you will not have the annoyance of knowing her your daughter-in-law. But I think it better to mention that such remarks as you made about her this morning must not be repeated in my presence. I do not choose to hear anything spoken of that young lady which is not quite respectful.’ ‘Though she _has_ jilted you,’ said Mrs. Mallory, with an amiable smile. ‘I was not aware of it.’ ‘Very likely not; men seldom do know when women make fools of them. The better for them and their conviction as to their superior wisdom.’ ‘You may possibly be right,’ he rejoined, with perfect temper; ‘but the point I wish to impress upon you is, that nothing disrespectful is ever to be uttered of Miss Blisset in my presence. The other questions are quite supplementary.’ She made no answer, and Sebastian, politely wishing her good night, retired to his study. Mrs. Mallory sat alone, very angry, after her phlegmatic, batrachian fashion, at what had happened, and longing very much, for the relief of her own feelings, to punish some one in some way. It was too exasperating that Sebastian should behave in that manner, after all her plans for his good and welfare. Helena Spenceley was at the moment perfection in her eyes. ‘At any rate, he must go to the ball the day after to-morrow,’ she said to herself. ‘It is a good chance. There is no time when a man is so likely to fall in love with a woman as when he has just been “refused” by another woman.’ But here her thoughts wandered off to Adrienne, and she felt as angry with her for her presumption in refusing Sebastian as she would have felt with her success had she accepted him. Indeed, her audacity in attracting him at all was thoroughly odious; she was a little dog in the manger, who would neither accept the man’s love herself nor leave him free to wander aside to where beauty and a hundred thousand pounds waited for him to lift his hand in order to utter a rapturous ‘Yes.’