‘I have _no doubt_ that I should!’ exclaimed his mother in a sarcastic voice; ‘indeed, I have no doubt that I should!’ Like violin playing, sarcasm is a thing which must be either masterly or deplorable, but she was one of the many from whom this truth is hidden. ‘It would be a good thing if my sisters had one half of her looks or manners,’ retorted he, goaded by her tone. ‘Beside her, Agneta and Mary would look like dairy-maids.’ ‘Am I to sit here and hear my own daughters abused and vilified?’ exclaimed Lady Fordyce, rising and walking about. ‘You have indeed profited by your stay among those people! I hope you are satisfied. I hope you have done enough to pain me. I hope you will never live to repent the way in which you have insulted me.’ ‘My dear mother, pray, pray be calmer. What am I doing that you should be in this state?’ ‘You have called your sisters dairy-maids--_servants!_ You are throwing yourself away upon this worthless creature who has been trying all the time to entrap you.’ ‘How can you say such a thing, ma’am, when I tell you that she has refused me? Not that I mean to accept it.’ ‘Refused you, indeed! I tell you I do not believe it; she merely wants to draw you on. I ask you, _is it likely_ that a girl who has not a penny in the world would refuse such prospects? Pshaw!’ cried Lady Fordyce, with all the cheap sense of one who knows nothing of the varieties of human character. ‘I wish you could see her,’ sighed her son. ‘If you persist in your folly I shall no doubt have that felicity in time.’ ‘My father has not taken this view,’ said Crauford. ‘You are very hard upon me, ma’am.’ ‘Let me remind you that you have shown no consideration _for me_ throughout the whole matter,’ she replied. ‘I, of course, come last. I ask you again, will you be guided by one who is more fitted to judge than you can be, and put this unjustifiable marriage out of your head?’ She stood waiting; their eyes met, and he cast his down. ‘I must try again,’ he said with ineffective tenacity. She turned from him and left the room, brown silk, account-book, and all. He was accustomed to scenes like the one he had just experienced, but generally it was someone else who played the part of victim, not himself. For a week or more the world had used him very badly; his visit to Lady Eliza had been startling, his interview with Cecilia humiliating, and his reception by his mother terrific; even his uncle had maintained an attitude towards him that he could not understand. His thoughts went back to Barclay, the one person who seemed to see him in his true colours, and he longed for him as a man who has had an accident longs for the surgeon to come and bind his wounds. He had left Fullarton hurriedly and now he was sorry for what he had done.