He dreaded Mrs.Neville; and he dreaded Jack, who had been so named after his gallant grandfather, Colonel Smith.

When Mrs.Neville arrived, she was found to be so subdued and tame that she could hardly open her mouth before the old Earl.

Her loudness, if she ever had been loud, was certainly all gone,--and her fastness, if ever she had been fast, had been worn out of her.

She was an old woman, with the relics of great beauty, idolizing her two sons for whom all her life had been a sacrifice, in weak health, and prepared, if necessary, to sit in silent awe at the feet of the Earl who had been so good to her boy.
"I don't know how to thank you for what you have done," she said, in a low voice.
"No thanks are required," said the Earl.

"He is the same to us as if he were our own." Then she raised the old man's hand and kissed it,--and the old man owned to himself that he had made a mistake.
As to Jack Neville--.