drive many a man
crazy.--"But if the mother's a baggage, the daughter's a vixen," he
said to himself. "And, upon my soul if I had to choose between 'em--which
God Almighty forbid--I'd take my chance with the baggage." As climax
Lady Calmady's expression was severe. She sat very upright, and made no
effort at conversation. Her nerves were a little on edge. There had
been awkward moments during this meal, and now her niece's entrance
struck her as unfortunately accentuated, while there was that in
Richard's aspect which startled the quick fears and jealousies of her
motherhood.

And to Richard himself, it must be owned, this meeting so hotly
desired, and against the dangers of which he had so wisely guarded,
came in fashion altogether different to that which he had pictured.
Helen's manner was cold to a point far from flattering to his
self-esteem. The subtle intimacies of the scene in the Long Gallery
became as though they had never been. Dickie thinking over his restless
night, his fierce efforts at self-conquest, those long hours in the
saddle designed for the reduction of a perfervid imagination, wrote
himself down an ass indeed. And yet--yet--the charm of Helen's presence
was great. And surely she wasn't quite herself just now, there was
something wrong with her? Anybody could see that. Everybody did see it
in fact, he feared, and commented upon it in no charitable spirit.
Hostility towards her declared itself on every side. He detected
that--or imagined he did so--in Lady Louisa's expression, in Ludovic
Quayle's extra-superfine smile, in the doctor's close and rather
cynical attitude of observation, and, last but not least, in the
reserve of his mother's bearing and manner. And this hostility, real or
imagined, begot in Richard a new sensation--one of tenderness, wholly
unselfish and protective, while the fighting blood stirred in him. He
grew slightly reckless.

"What has happened? We appear to have fallen most unaccountably
silent," he said, looking round the table, with an air of gallant
challenge pretty to see.

"So we have, though," exclaimed Lord Fallowfeild, half in relief, half
in apology. "Very true--was just thinking the same thing myself."

While Mr. Ouayle, leaning forward, inquired with much sweetness:--"To
whom shall I talk? Madame de Vallorbes is far more profitably engaged
in discussing her luncheon, than she could be in discussing any
conceivable topic of conversation with such as I. And Dr. Kn