you that I never felt more
grateful nor more relieved than by this instance of regard for my
wishes.'

Though knowing the fitful nature of Louis's colour, he would have been
better satisfied not to have called up such an intensity of red, and to
have had some other answer than, 'I wish you saw more of them.'

'I see them every year in London.'

'London gives so little scope for real acquaintance,' ventured Louis
again, with downcast eyes.

'You forget that Lady Conway is my sister-in-law.' Louis would have
spoken, but his father added, 'Before you were born, I had full
experience of her. You must take it on trust that her soft,
prepossessing manners belong to her as a woman of the world who cannot
see you without designs on you.'

'Of course,' said Louis, 'I yield to your expressed wishes; but my aunt
has been very kind to me: and,' he added, after trying to mould the
words to their gentlest form, 'you could not see my cousins without
being convinced that it is the utmost injustice--'

'I do not censure them,' said his father, as he hesitated between
indignation and respect, 'I only tell you, Louis, that nothing could
grieve me more than to see your happiness in the keeping of a pupil of
Lady Conway.'

He met a look full of consternation, and of struggles between filial
deference and the sense of injustice. All Louis allowed himself to say
was, however, 'Surely, when I am her own nephew! when our poverty is a
flagrant fact--she may be acquitted of anything but caring for me
for--for my mother's sake.'

There was a silence that alarmed Louis, who had never before named his
mother to the Earl. At last, Lord Ormersfield spoke clearly and
sternly, in characteristic succinct sentences, but taking breath
between each. 'You shall have no reason to think me prejudiced. I
will tell you facts. There was a match which she desired for such
causes as lead her to seek you. The poverty was greater, and she knew
it. On one side there was strong affection; on that which she
influenced there was--none whatever. If there were scruples, she
smothered them. She worked on a young innocent mind to act out her
deceit, and without a misgiving on--on his part that his feelings wore
not returned, the marriage took place.'

'It could not have been all her own fault,' cried Louis. 'It must have
been a willing instrument--much to blame--'

His father cut him short with sudden severity, such as startled him.
'Never say so, L