"If your poor father, Charles, groped through life surrounded on all sides with outer darkness, is that any reason that I should suffer the son he left under my care and control to do so likewise? When he left the whole of my property at my whole and sole disposal, it was plain that he felt there was more hope of wisdom abiding in me than in you. It is herein, and herein only, that I must labour to do according to his wishes and his will, and endeavour so to act that all may see his confidence in me was not misplaced." "For Heaven's sake, mother! think well before you determine upon disappointing all my hopes in this most cruel manner; and believe me, that no lookers-on between you and me--except perhaps the mischievous fanatic who has lately chosen to meddle so impertinently in our affairs--but will feel and say that I have been ill treated." Had Mowbray not been stung and irritated as he was before this conversation, it is probable he would not have remonstrated thus warmly with a mother, whom he had ever been accustomed to treat with the most tender observance and respect. She looked at him with equal anger and astonishment, and remained for some time without speaking a word, or withdrawing her eyes from his face. If her son felt inclined to quote Shakspeare at the beginning of the conversation, she might have done so at the end of it; for all she wished to say was comprised in these words: "Nay, then, I'll send those to you that can speak." She did not, however, express herself exactly thus, but ended her long examination of his flushed and agitated countenance by pronouncing almost in a whisper, "This is very terrible! But I thank Heaven I am not left quite alone in the world!" Having thus spoken, she rose and retired to her bed-room, leaving her very unhappy son in possession of her "morning parlour," and of more bitter thoughts than had ever before been his portion. Having continued for some moments exactly in the position in which she left him, he at length started up, and endeavouring to rouse himself from the heavy trance that seemed to have fallen on him, he hastened to find Helen. "It is all over with me, Helen!" said he. "You know what I met with in the library;--and now my mother protests against my accepting my commission, because she says that officers lead profane lives. What is to become of me, Helen!" "Have patience, dearest Charles! All this cannot last. It cannot be supposed that we can submit ourselves to the will of Mr. Cartwright: and depend upon it that it is he who has dictated this refusal. Do not look so very miserable, my dear brother! I think you would do very wisely if you returned to Oakley to dinner,--for many reasons." "Bless you, love, for the suggestion! It will indeed be a relief to me. I know not at this moment which I most desire to avoid--my mother, or Miss Torrington. Have you seen her--Rosalind, I mean?"