Mrs. Mallory knew in an instant the nature of the coming communication, and prepared herself to hear something disagreeable. She had not omitted to provide her son with many opportunities of changing his estate. She had had plenty of visitors at her house, and chiefly young lady visitors. None of them had had a hundred thousand pounds, but equally none of them had been quite portionless, and all of them had been more or less good-looking, and what are called ‘nice girls.’ She had seen all her efforts wasted; had seen Sebastian studiously polite and amiable, even putting himself out of the way often to attend her and her visitors when they wanted an escort. She had seen him follow them to concerts and dances and garden-parties; she had seen him play the host--and nothing else--to admiration; and she had seen the look of relief which dawned upon his face when the duty could conscientiously be left, and he could return to his books, his plans, and his business--that business which seemed to have become the very breath of life to him, and from which no girl, however nice, could succeed in drawing him away. But some one had at last found this power--probably some one whom she would dislike excessively. Most probably he had met Adrienne Blisset again somewhere; had proposed to her a second time, and been accepted. Mrs. Mallory thought she would have preferred him to come and tell her that he was going to marry any one--a barmaid, a milliner--any one rather than ‘that girl,’ whom she hated with a virulence which grew with time. ‘Indeed!’ she made answer, and left him to inflict the blow. It was exactly as she expected. ‘I am going to be married, mother.’ ‘To be married?’ she repeated mechanically. She had long ago said that she had no power over her son, but she felt bitter at this proof of the truth of her words. ‘Yes. I hope you will approve my choice.’ ‘If your choice is Miss Blisset, Sebastian, I shall never approve it, and so I tell you distinctly.’ ‘But it is not Miss Blisset, mother. She refused me two years ago--she would refuse me now, and she would refuse me through all time. Then I was a good deal cut-up about it. Now, I am very glad. No; it is some one whom you used to like very much. At least, I always understood you to say so.’ It is a fact that the idea of Helena Spenceley did not once enter Mrs. Mallory’s mind. She had so come to believe that her son never could, under any circumstances, turn to her former favourite, that since the downfall of Helena and her family she had altogether dismissed them from her thoughts. Even now, as Sebastian paused, she did not think of Helena, but said, after a moment. ‘I cannot imagine whom you mean, Sebastian, and I never could guess things of that kind. Who may the lady be?’ ‘Helena Spenceley.’ Mrs. Mallory actually started from her chair. ‘HELENA SPENCELEY! What will you tell me?’