t, and that had offended him bitterly; he
had rebuked her sternly, and she had been too wise to repeat the offence;
but he had not forgotten it. Maurice, indeed, he would have been glad to
see, but Maurice did not come near him. His regiment had lately moved to
Manchester, and either he could not or would not get leave; and yet he
had been idle enough at one time, and glad to run up to town upon the
smallest pretext. Now he never came. It added a little to his irritation,
but scarcely to his misery. On this particular afternoon, as he sat as
usual brooding over the past, there came the sudden clatter of carriage
wheels over the flagged roadway of the little back street, followed by a
sharp ring at his door. It was his mother, of course; no other woman came
to see him; he heard the rustle of her soft silken skirts up the narrow
staircase, and her pleasant little chatter to the fat old landlady who
was ushering her up, and presently the door opened and she came in.

"Good morning, John. Dear me, how hot and stuffy this room is," holding
up her soft old face to her son.

He just touched her cheek. "I am sorry you find it so--shall I open the
window?"

"Oh!" sinking down in a chair, and throwing back her cloak; "how can you
stand a fire in the room, it is quite mild and spring-like out. Have you
not been out, John? it would do you good to get a little fresh air."

"I shall go round to the club presently, I daresay," he answered,
abstractedly, sitting down in his arm-chair again; all the pleasant
flutter that the bright old lady brought with her, the atmosphere of life
and variety that surrounded her, only vexed and wearied him, and jarred
upon his nerves. She was always telling him to go somewhere or to do
something; why couldn't she let him alone? he thought, irritably.

"To your club? No further than that? Why, you might as well stay at home.
Really, my dear, it's a great pity you don't go about and see some of
your old friends; you can't mean to shut yourself up like a dormouse for
ever, I suppose!"

"I haven't the least idea what I mean to do," he answered, not
graciously; she was his mother, and so he could not very well put her out
at the door, but that was what he would have liked to do.

"I don't see," continued Lady Kynaston, with unwonted courage, "I don't
at all see why you should let this unfortunate affair weigh on you for
ever; there is really no reason why you should not console yourself and
marry some