Her son laughed bitterly. “I asked her if he was to open the shop‐door, and carry parcels, and if he would have the same sort of cockade on his hat, and she got quite angry about it. She says he has saved a good deal of money, and means to go into business, and she thinks I couldn’t have a better partner. What do you think of it, mother?” Mrs. Gerald leaned back in her chair, and put her hand up to her face, half hiding a blush of vexation. She was not willing to tell Lawrence all she thought of the matter. “What does Annette say?” she asked. “Annette vetoed the proposal up and down. I’ve heard nothing of it for a week or more. I only told you because you seem to think me too difficult.” Mrs. Gerald sighed. She had hoped to see her son busy and contented after his marriage, and she found him only more idle and dissatisfied than before. With the partiality of a mother, she tried still to find him unfortunate instead of blameworthy, and, rather than see any fault in him, looked only at his difficulties, refusing to recollect how easily he could now overcome them all. She fancied erroneously that to suggest to him that his trials had a good deal of brightness to relieve them, would be to show a lack of sympathy and tenderness, and that the best way to comfort him was to let him see that his annoyances showed in her eyes as misfortunes. It was a mistake which, in her over‐sensitive affection, she had always made with him. His wife acted otherwise. “There is no use in anticipating evil, Lawrence,” she said. “Perhaps that may be the means of bringing it about. Fortune loves a smiling countenance. As to mamma’s plans and wishes with regard to John, the best way for us is to assume that it is impossible she should ever regard him as anything but a servant. And, indeed,” she concluded with dignity, “I think she never can do otherwise.” But this assumption did not prevent young Mr. Gerald from going privately to F. Chevreuse, and begging him to interfere and try to bring her mother to reason; and perhaps Mrs. Ferrier was never so near being in open revolt against her pastor as when he undertook to show her that there were certain social distinctions which it was her duty to recognize and respect. “I think, F. Chevreuse,” she said stiffly, “that a priest might do better than encourage pride and haughtiness.”