“God bless you, my son! Let me call you so, and feel that, though I deny you my daughter, I give you heartily a mother's care and affection.” Lady Treherne was as generous as she was proud, and her nephew had conquered her by confidence and submission. He acted no part, yet, even in relinquishing all, he cherished a hope that he might yet win the heart he coveted. Silently they parted, but from that hour a new and closer bond existed between the two, and exerted an unsuspected influence over the whole household. * * * * * Maurice waited with some impatience for Mrs. Snowdon's entrance, not only because of his curiosity to see if she had discovered the thief, but because of the part he had taken upon himself to play. He was equal to it, and felt a certain pleasure in it for a threefold reason. It would serve his aunt and cousin, would divert his mind from its own cares, and, perhaps by making Octavia jealous, waken love; for, though he had chosen the right, he was but a man, and moreover a lover. Mrs. Snowdon was late. She always was, for her toilet was elaborate, and she liked to enjoy its effects upon others. The moment she entered Treherne's eye was on her, and to his intense surprise and annoyance she addressed Octavia, saying blandly, “My dear Miss Treherne, I've been admiring your peacocks. Pray let me see you feed them tomorrow. Miss Talbot says it is a charming sight.” “If you are on the terrace just after lunch, you will find them there, and may feed them yourself, if you like” was the cool, civil reply. “She looks like a peacock herself in that splendid green and gold dress, doesn't she?” whispered Rose to Sir Jasper, with a wicked laugh. “Faith, so she does. I wish Tavie's birds had voices like Mrs. Snowdon's; their squalling annoys me intensely.” “I rather like it, for it is honest, and no malice or mischief is hidden behind it. I always distrust those smooth, sweet voices; they are insincere. I like a full, clear tone; sharp, if you please, but decided and true.” “Well said, Octavia. I agree with you, and your own is a perfect sample of the kind you describe.” And Treherne smiled as he rolled by to join Mrs. Snowdon, who evidently waited for him, while Octavia turned to her brother to defend her pets. “Are you sure? How did you discover?” said Maurice, affecting to admire the lady's bouquet, as he paused beside her. “I suspected it the moment I saw her this morning. She is no actress; and dislike, distrust, and contempt were visible in her face when we met. Till you so cleverly told me my note was lost, I fancied she was disturbed about her brother--or you.” A sudden pause and a keen glance followed the last softly uttered word, but Treherne met it with an inscrutable smile and a quiet “Well, what next?”