‘Oh, Roger! don’t quarrel--don’t quarrel! I went home this morning. Mamma knows,’ cried Agnes, flushed and tearful, clasping her hands. ‘And I am ready to give you every explanation,’ said Oswald. ‘You have a right to it. We were married on Tuesday. It was no doing of hers. The fault is all mine. And your mother is satisfied. Come in with us, and you shall have every detail. And come, Roger, shake hands with me. There is no harm done after all.’ ‘Harm done!’ cried the young man in his bitterness; ‘harm done! Is it no harm that she has disgraced herself? I don’t know what greater harm is in the world.’ ‘Oh, Roger, Roger!’ ‘This has gone far enough,’ said Oswald; ‘take care what you say. Agnes, my darling, take my arm, and come to my mother. He does not know what he is saying; and Ned, come along, you and Cara. There are a hundred things to tell you. I want you to hear everything to-day.’ They passed him, while he stood fuming with bitter rage, not on account of Agnes, though she was the excuse for it. She took all the guilt to herself, however, looking at him pitifully, appealing to him as her husband led her to his mother’s door. ‘Roger, oh Roger, dear, come with us!’ she cried. She had spoken to no one but him. But Roger paid no attention to Agnes. It was the other pair who had all his thoughts; he seemed to be supplanted over again, to have all the pangs of failure to bear over again. The idea of Oswald’s success with Cara had become familiar to him, and there was a little consolation in the fact that Edward, like himself, was unhappy. But at this new change, the poor young fellow ground his teeth. It was more than he could bear. Rage and anguish were in his eyes. Even Cara’s kind look at him, her little mute apology and deprecation of his wrath, increased it. Why should he go with them? What did it matter to him? His sister? Oh, there were plenty of people to look after his sister, and why should he follow them, who cared so little for him? But, after a while, he did follow them. There is something in this kind of suffering which attracts the sufferer to the rack. He is in course of healing when he has the courage to turn his back upon it, and go firmly away.