The exclamations and interruptions had, of course, been many. The subject was now discussed by Mrs. Montgomery and Frances. Also by Mr. Jackson; for he generally came in soon after the post hour. Julia did not venture a word. Lady Susan’s marriage was agreed upon by all as, of course, the principal cause of Edmund’s “ridiculously violent despair,” as Frances pettishly called it. Mr. Jackson, with evident mortification, was obliged to confess that he had certainly expected more sense from Edmund. He hoped, however, he added, that feelings of such boyish violence would exhaust themselves in a proportionately short time, and leave his young friend a more reasonable man for the rest of his life. There might, however, Mr. Jackson suggested, be some unpleasant circumstances respecting this business which had made so much noise in the papers, in which Edmund, even without fault of his own, might find himself involved. His feelings, his name, might be painfully implicated. There might be particulars, which delicacy towards his friend rendered it difficult to explain to the public. He thought it impossible that Edmund could talk of leaving England for ever, merely on account of his disappointment about Lady Susan; that would be too irrational: though from his despairing expressions on the subject of love, it was evidently the one on which he felt most bitterly just at present. The result of the conversation was, a determination on the part of Mr. Jackson, to go up to town immediately. His assistance, or at least his advice, might be useful to his young friend. “And give me my desk,” said Mrs. Montgomery, “I will write to him. He shall come to me, foolish boy, before he takes any rash step.” Henry had left Lodore some days since, or he would doubtless have favoured the family party with some good natured observations. He had, however, to confirm opinions of still more consequence to his plans, in another quarter—a quarter, which he had lately, by no very honourable means, discovered to have become more dangerous than ever. Had he been present, he could have resolved every mystery, and shewn all to be simple that seemed extraordinary: not that he would have done so. Julia and Frances had been just going to take a walk, when the letter was brought in; they now pursued their original intention, with an additional motive; the wish to converse together uninterruptedly. As they went out, Frances pressed her sister’s hand without speaking.