n, there to seek a reconciliation
with her son, and persuade him to go to Rome with them. She managed it
all so well, saying nothing at first of their intended journey, but
making herself very agreeable to her son. She brought to him all the
flattering things said of them. She studied every little whim, wish, or
caprice. She put him on a pedestal and made an idol of him. She was all
that was gay, amiable, pleasant and kind. She made herself not only his
friend and companion, but everything else in the world to him. She was
gay, amiable, gracious, witty. With her still beautiful face and fine
figure, she made herself so attractive and charming that Lord Chandos
was soon entirely under her influence.

How many mothers might have taken a hint for the management of their
sons from her. She found no fault with cigars or latch-keys. She was the
essence of all that was kind, yet, at the same time, she was so
animated, so bright, so witty, that the time spent with her passed
quickly as a dream. Lord Chandos did not even like to think of parting
from her; and then, when she was most kind and most attentive to him,
she mentioned Rome.

"We are going to Rome, Lance, for the winter," said the countess to her
son.

He looked up from the paper he was reading in blank amazement.

"To Rome, mother? Why, what is taking you there?"

"I find there will be some very nice English people there," she said; "I
am tired of Paris; it is one eternal glare; I long for the mysterious
quiet and dreamy silence of Rome. It will be a pleasant change. I really
like a nice circle of English people out of England."

That was the beginning. She was too wise and diplomatic to ask him to go
with them. She contented herself by speaking before him of the gayeties
they expected, the pleasures they anticipated; then, one day, as they
were discussing their plans, she turned to him and said:

"Lance, what do you intend doing this winter? Are you going back to
England to think over the fogs?"

"I am not quite sure," he said; and then he wondered why she said
nothing about going to Rome with them. At last, when she saw the time
had come, she said, carelessly:

"Lance, if you do not care about returning to England, come with us to
Rome."

"I shall be delighted."

He looked up with an air of relief. After all, he could not see Leone
until summer: why return to England and melancholy? He might just as
well enjoy himself in Rome. He knew what select and br