The viscount paced the chamber slowly in long strides, head bent in thought, hands clasped behind him. “It will need consideration,” said he. “But it may serve, and I can count upon Green. He is satisfied that Caryll befooled him at Maidstone, and that he kept the papers he carried despite the thoroughness of Green's investigations. Moreover, he was handled with some roughness by Caryll. For that and the other matter he asks redress--thirsts for it. He's a very willing tool, as I have found.” “Then see that you use him adroitly to your work,” said his mother. “Best not leave town at present, Charles.” “Why, no,” said he. “I'll find me a lodging somewhere at hand, since my fond sire is determined I shall pollute no longer the sacrosanctity of his dwelling. Perhaps when I have pulled him out of this quicksand, he will deign to mitigate the bitterness of his feelings for me. Though, faith, I find life endurable without the affection he should have consecrated to me.” “Ay,” she said, looking up at him. “You are his son; too much his son, I fear. 'Tis why he dislikes you so intensely. He sees in you the faults to which he is blind in himself.” “Sweet mother!” said his lordship, bowing. She scowled at him. She could deal in irony herself--and loved to--but she detested to have it dealt to her. He bowed again; gained the door, and would have passed out but that she detained him. “'Tis a pity, on some scores, to dispose so utterly of this Caryll,” she said. “The pestilent coxcomb has his uses, and his uses, like adversity's, are sweet.” He paused to question her with his eyes. “He might have made a husband for Hortensia, and rid me of the company of that white-faced changeling.” “Might he so?” quoth the viscount, face and voice, expressionless. “They were made for each other,” her ladyship opined. “Were they so?” “Ay--were they. And faith they've discovered it. I would you had seen the turtles in the arbor an hour ago, when I surprised them.” His lordship attempted a smile, but achieved nothing more than a wry face and a change of color. His mother's eyes, observing these signs, grew on a sudden startled. “Why, fool,” quoth she, “do you hold there still? Art not yet cured of that folly?” “What folly, ma'am?” “This folly that already has cost you so much. 'Sdeath! As I'm a woman, if you'd so much feeling for the girl, I marvel ye did not marry her honestly and in earnest when the chance was yours.” The pallor of his face increased. He clenched his hands. “I marvel myself that I did not,” he answered passionately--and went out, slamming the door after him, and leaving her ladyship agape and angry. CHAPTER XV. LOVE AND RAGE