But Lady Augusta’s letter was not couched in these calm and friendly terms; and knowing as she did the exertions she had made to keep Edgar at arm’s length, poor Lady Augusta felt that she did not deserve the assault made upon her, and consequently took longer to calm down than she generally did. It was while her brow was still puckered, and her cheek flushed with this unwelcome communication, that Harry came in. When he said, “I want to speak to you, mother,” her anxious mind already jumped at some brewing harm. She took him into the deserted library, feeling that this was the most appropriate place in which to hear any confession her son might have to make to her. The drawing-room, where invasion was always to be feared, and the morning-room, which was strewed with patterns and girls, might do very well for the confession of feminine peccadilloes, but a son’s ill-doing was to be treated with a graver care. She led Harry accordingly into the library, and put herself into his father’s chair, and said, “What is it, my dear boy?” with a deeper gravity than usual. Not that Harry was to be taken in by such pretences at severity. He knew his mother too well for that. “Mother,” he said, sitting down near her, but turning his head partially away from her gaze, “you have often said that my father wanted me--to marry.” “To marry!--why, Harry? Yes, dear, and so he does,” said Lady Augusta; “and I too,” she added, less decidedly. “I wish it, too--if it is some one very nice.” “Well,” said Harry, looking at her with a certain shamefaced ostentation of boldness, “I have seen some one whom I could marry at last.” “At last! You are not so dreadfully old,” said the mother, with a smile. “You, too! Well, dear, tell me who it is. Some one you have met at your Aunt Mary’s”? Oh! Harry, my dear boy, I trust most earnestly it is some one very nice!” “It is some one much better than nice--the most lovely creature, mother, you ever saw in your life. I never even dreamt of anything like her,” said Harry, with a sigh. “I hope she is something more than a lovely creature,” said Lady Augusta. “Oh! Harry, your father is so put out about Gussy’s business; I do hope, dear, that this is something which will put him in good-humour again. I can take her loveliness for granted. Tell me--do tell me who she is?” “You don’t mean to say that you are going to let that fellow marry Gussy’?” said Harry, coming to a sudden pause. “Harry, if this is such a connection as I hope, it will smooth everything,” said Lady Augusta. “My dearest boy, tell me who she is.” “She is the only woman I will ever marry,” said Harry, doggedly. And then his poor mother divined, without further words, that the match was not an advantageous one, and that she had another disappointment on her hands. “Harry, you keep me very anxious. Is she one of Mary’s neighbours? Tell me her name.”