ure in Guy's society."

By her start, this was evidently new and not welcome tidings to Guy's
mother. No wonder. Any mother in England would have shrank from the
thought that her best-beloved son--especially a young man of Guy's
temperament, and under Guy's present circumstances--was thrown into the
society which now surrounded the debauched dotage of the too-notorious
Earl of Luxmore.

"My son did not mention it. He has been too much occupied in business
matters to write home frequently, since he reached Paris. However his
stay there is limited;" and this seemed to relieve her. "I doubt if he
will have much time left to visit Compiegne."

She said no more than this, of course, to Lord Luxmore's son; but her
disquiet was sufficiently apparent.

"It was I who brought your son to Compiegne--where he is a universal
favourite, from his wit and liveliness. I know no one who is a more
pleasant companion than Guy."

Guy's mother bowed--but coldly.

"I think, Mrs. Halifax, you are aware that the earl's tastes and mine
differ widely--have always differed. But he is an old man, and I am
his only son. He likes to see me sometimes, and I go:--though, I must
confess, I take little pleasure in the circle he has around him."

"In which circle, as I understand, my son is constantly included?"

"Why not? It is a very brilliant circle. The whole court of Charles
Dix can afford none more amusing. For the rest, what matters? One
learns to take things as they seem, without peering below the surface.
One wearies of impotent Quixotism against unconquerable evils."

"That is not our creed at Beechwood," said Mrs. Halifax, abruptly, as
she ceased the conversation. But ever and anon it seemed to recur to
her mind--ay, through all the mirth of the young people, all the graver
pleasure which the father took in the happiness of his son Edwin; his
good son, who had never given him a single care. He declared this
settling of Edwin had been to him almost like the days when he himself
used to come of evenings, hammer in hand, to put up shelves in the
house, or nail the currant-bushes against the wall, doing everything
con amore, and with the utmost care, knowing it would come under the
quick observant eyes of Ursula March.

"That is, of Ursula Halifax--for I don't think I let her see a single
one of my wonderful doings until she was Ursula Halifax. Do you
remember, Phineas, when you came to visit us the first time, and found
us