The morning was cold and damp and inexpressibly depressing, but Maria was in that mood which defies anything to be of consequence. She put on her hat and cloak and walked silently by her uncle's side until they came to the Bradley cottage. All the prettiness of its summer and autumn surroundings was blighted or dead; the door shut, the window covered, the whole place infected by the sorrow which had visited it. Agnes opened the door. She was wan and looked physically ill and weary, but she smiled brightly at her visitor, and kissed her as she crossed the threshold. "My father has been very ill, Maria, or I should have been to see you before this," she said; "but he has gone to the shop this morning. I fear he ought not." "My grandfather has been very ill and is still unable to leave his room," replied Maria. "My dear grandmother also! As for myself--but that is of little importance, only I must say that it has been a dreadful thing to happen to us, a cruel thing!" "It was a wrong thing to begin with. That is where all the trouble sprang from. I see it now Maria." "Of course! You ought not to have deceived your father, Agnes." "I was to blame in that, very much to blame. I have nearly broken my heart over the sin and its consequences." "Consequences! Yes, for they fell upon the innocent--that is what you ought to be sorry for--my grandfather and grandmother, my Uncle Neil, and even myself." "But as for yourself, Maria, you also were to blame. If you would have been content with seeing Harry here----" "Oh, indeed! You did not permit me to see Harry here, or even to bid him good-bye that night. If you had----" "It would have made no difference. Harry as well as you seemed willing to run all risks to meet--elsewhere." "I never thought of meeting Harry elsewhere. I have told you this fact before." "If you had not done so, if Harry had not known you would do so again, he would not have asked you." "This is the last time I will condescend to tell you, Agnes, that I never once met Harry by appointment; much less, at nine o'clock at night. Please remember this!" "It is, then, very strange, that Harry should have asked you that night." "Not only very strange, but very impertinent. Why should he suppose Maria Semple would obey such a command? For it was a command. And it was a further impertinence to send me this command on a bit of common paper, wrapped around a stone and thrown at me through a window. It was a vulgar thing to do, also, and I never gave Harry Bradley the smallest right to order me to meet him anywhere." "Oh, if you look at things that way! But why did he ask you? That is a question hard to answer." "Not at all. He was jealous of Macpherson and wished to show off his familiarity with me and make Macpherson jealous. Under this distracting passion he forgot, or he did not care, for the risk. It was your selfishness put the idea into his head, and it was his selfishness that carried it out, regardless of the consequences."