her daughter.

"That test satisfies me; well, I submit for a time, but I think I can
conquer my aunt yet." And with a patient sigh Treherne turned to observe
Mrs. Snowdon.

She now stood by the fire talking with Sir Jasper, a handsome, reckless,
generous-hearted young gentleman, who very plainly showed his great
admiration for the lady. When he came, she suddenly woke up from her
listless mood and became as brilliantly gay as she had been unmistakably
melancholy before. As she chatted, she absently pushed to and fro a
small antique urn of bronze on the chimneypiece, and in doing so she
more than once gave Treherne a quick, significant glance, which he
answered at last by a somewhat haughty nod. Then, as if satisfied, she
ceased toying with the ornament and became absorbed in Sir Jasper's
gallant badinage.

The instant her son approached Mrs. Snowdon, Madame Mere grew anxious,
and leaving Octavia to her friends and lover, she watched Jasper. But
her surveillance availed little, for she could neither see nor hear
anything amiss, yet could not rid herself of the feeling that some
mutual understanding existed between them. When the party broke up for
the night, she lingered till all were gone but her son and nephew.

"Well, Madame Ma Mere, what troubles you?" asked Sir Jasper, as she
looked anxiously into his face before bestowing her good-night kiss.

"I cannot tell, yet I feel ill at ease. Remember, my son, that you are
the pride of my heart, and any sin or shame of yours would kill me. Good
night, Maurice." And with a stately bow she swept away.