Cashel Byron's Profession

"How d'ye do, Miss Carew," said Cashel, breaking loose, and turning

to Lydia. "Never mind her; it's only my mother. At least," he added,

as if correcting himself, "she's my mamma."

"And where have you come from? Where have you been? Do you know that

I have not seen you for seven years, you unnatural boy? Think of his

being my son, Miss Carew. Give me another kiss, my own," she

continued, grasping his arm affectionately.

"What a muscular creature you are!"

"Kiss away as much as you like," said Cashel, struggling with the

old school-boy sullenness as it returned oppressively upon him. "I

suppose you're well. You look right enough."

"Yes," she said, mockingly, beginning to despise him for his

inability to act up to her in this thrilling scene; "I AM right

enough. Your language is as refined as ever. And why do you get your

hair cropped close like that? You must let it grow, and--"

"Now, look here," said Cashel, stopping her hand neatly as she

raised it to rearrange his locks. "You just drop it, or I'll walk

out at that door and you won't see me again for another seven years.

You can either take me as you find me, or let me alone. Absalom and

Dan Mendoza came to grief through wearing their hair long, and I am

going to wear mine short."

Mrs. Byron became a shade colder. "Indeed!" she said. "Just the same

still, Cashel?"

"Just the same, both one and other of us," he replied. "Before you

spoke six words I felt as if we'd parted only yesterday."

"I am rather taken aback by the success of my experiment,"

interposed Lydia. "I invited you purposely to meet one another. The

resemblance between you led me to suspect the truth, and my

suspicion was confirmed by the account Mr. Byron gave me of his

adventures."

Mrs. Byron's vanity was touched. "Is he like me?" she said, scanning

his features. He, without heeding her, said to Lydia with

undisguised mortification, "And was THAT why you sent for me?"

"Are you disappointed?" said Lydia.

"He is not in the least glad to see me," said Mrs. Byron,

plaintively. "He has no heart."

"Now she'll go on for the next hour," said Cashel, looking to Lydia,

obviously because he found it much pleasanter than looking at his

mother. "However, if you don't care, I don't. So, fire away, mamma."