And here he was coming back! a guest whom they could not refuse, a credit to the family, a distinguished relation, while Gervase was what he was. But Gerald Piercey should not, Lady Piercey resolved, see Gervase as he was,--not for the world! He was coming, no doubt, to spy out the nakedness of the land--but what he should find would only be an account of her son enjoying himself in London, seeing life, doing as other young men did. If Gerald was a colonel and a C.B., Gervase should bear the aspect of a young man about town--a man of fashion, going everywhere; a man who had no occasion to go to India to distinguish himself, having a good estate and a baronetcy behind him at home. To keep up this fiction would be easy if Gervase were but absent. It would be impossible, alas! to do it in his presence. Lady Piercey exerted herself during that day, in a way she had not been known to do before for years. She wrote a long letter, bending over it, and working all the lines of her mouth like a schoolboy. It was labour dire and weary woe, for a woman who had long given up any exertion of the kind for herself. But in this case she would not trust even Margaret. And then she had Gervase’s drawers emptied, and his clothes brought to her to make a survey. They were not fashionable clothes by any means; Lady Piercey, though she was not much used to men of fashion, and knew nothing of what “was worn” at the time, yet knew and remembered enough to feel that Gervase in these garments would by no means bear the aspect of a young man about town. But he would do very well in the Gregson world in Bloomsbury; everybody who saw him there would know that he was young Mr. Piercey of Greyshott, Sir Giles’ only son. This is the sort of fact that covers a multitude of sins, even in clothes. And in Bloomsbury the first fashions were not likely to be worn. He would pass muster very well there, but not--not before the eyes of Gerald Piercey, the colonel, the C.B., the cousin and heir. “You don’t see why I should be in such a hurry,” said Lady Piercey, with one of those glances which only want the power, not the desire, to kill. “I know, then, and that’s enough, Gervase, my boy. You’ll remember to be very good and please your poor father and me, now we’ve consented to give you this great treat, and let you go.” “Oh, yes,” said Gervase, with a laugh; “I’ll remember, mother. I sha’n’t be let go wrong, you take your oath of that.” “What does he mean by not being let? You’ve told him about Gregson, Meg! Well, my dear, you know that is the only comfort I have. You’ll be met at the station, and you’ll find your nice rooms ready; and very lucky you are, Gervase, to find so good a person to take care of you. Do everything he tells you; mind, he knows all about you; and he’ll always lead you the right road, as you say.”