He had Mrs. Mallory in his mind’s eye as he surveyed her son; her principles were well known--the divine right of kings--the Conservative side through thick and thin, good report and evil report; Church and Constitution intact through every storm; our greatest Premier, the late lamented Duke of Wellington; _the working-man in his proper place_ (wherever that may be); rich and poor, gentle and simple, a providential arrangement which it would be sinful and impious to think of disturbing. Thinking of all this, Myles surveyed Sebastian Mallory, and as he found him entirely different from any young man he had ever seen before, and as most of the Thanshope people, great and small, were of the Radical persuasion, he immediately concluded that he was right--what had been bred in the bone must come out in the flesh, and it was quite clear that Mr. Mallory was a Conservative of the bluest dye. Meanwhile Sebastian had been looking at Myles, too, surprised at receiving no answer to his remark, and still more surprised to observe that the eyes of the ‘good man’ were fixed intently, criticisingly, and with unabashed steadfastness upon himself, and appeared to measure him over from head to foot, in a manner which was, to say the least, singular. The cap of the young man remained on his head; he did not rise; he did not ask what he could do, nor the visitor’s business; he simply looked at him with a pair of remarkably keen, piercing, dark eyes, and Sebastian returned the look, until at last a gleam of amusement appeared in his sleepy eyes. That look of amusement was not lost upon Myles; it irritated and angered him. He was so terribly in earnest about all he did, thought, or believed, as not readily to see the comic side of a question, while it was Mallory’s chief foible to take everything in this world that came to him as rather amusing--if not too troublesome. ‘_Ma foi!_’ he observed, with a quaint look, but very good-naturedly; ‘they told me in the train that I should be surprised at the Thanshope people, and so I am!’ ‘Perhaps they’ll be equally surprised with you,’ said Myles, concisely. ‘Well, they may,’ replied Sebastian, coolly. ‘Do you know who I am?’ Myles hesitated a moment, much wishing to say, ‘No, I don’t,’ but integrity got the upper hand; he only put the fact as disagreeably as he could. ‘I should suppose you are Mrs. Mallory’s son.’ Sebastian turned to the brown-faced, dark-eyed boy who stood behind, and remarked smilingly, ‘You see, _I_ am nobody, Hugo; only my mother’s son; and yet here I am upon my own property.’ The youth nodded, and glanced thoughtfully at Myles, who could not resist going on with the rather perilous game he was playing, and who remarked drily, ‘You’ll find that we count a good deal by residence and relationship here.’