Is it necessary to follow this couple further into the foolishness of their mutual talk?--it reads badly on paper, and in cold blood. They had forgotten what the hour was, and most other things, when Mr. Tottenham, very weary, but satisfied, came suddenly into the room, with his head full of the Entertainment. His eyes were more worn than ever, but the lines of care under them had melted away, and a fatigued, half-imbecile smile of pleasure was hanging about his face. He was too much worn out to judge anyone--to be hard upon anyone that night. Fatigue and relief of mind had affected him like a genial, gentle intoxication of the spirit. He stopped short, startled, and perhaps shocked for the moment, when Edgar, and that white little figure beside him, rose hastily from the chairs, which had been so very near each other. I am afraid that, for the first moment, Mr. Tottenham felt a chill of dread that it was one of his own young ladies from the establishment. He did not speak, and they did not speak for some moments. Then, with an attempt at severity, Mr. Tottenham said, “Gussy, is it possible? How should you have come here?” “Oh! uncle, forgive us!” said Gussy, taking Edgar’s arm, and clinging to it, “and speak to mamma for us. I accepted him three years ago, Uncle Tom. He is the same man--or, rather, a far nicer man,” and here she gave a closer clasp to his arm, and dropped her voice for the moment, “only poor. Only poor!--does that make all the difference? Can you tell me any reason, Uncle Tottenham, why I should give him up, now he has come back?” “My dear,” said Mr. Tottenham, alarmed yet conciliatory, “your mother--no, I don’t pretend I see it--your mother, Gussy, must be the best judge. Earnshaw, my dear fellow, was it not understood between us? I don’t blame you. I don’t say I wouldn’t have done the same; but was it not agreed between us? You should have given me fair warning, and she should never have come here.” “I gave Lady Mary fair warning,” said Edgar, who felt himself ready at this moment to confront the whole world. “I promised to deny myself; but no power in the world should make me deny Gussy anything she pleased; and this is what she pleases, it appears,” he said, looking down upon her with glowing eyes. “A poor thing, sir, but her own--and she chooses it. I can give up my own will, but Gussy shall have her will, if I can get it for her. I gave Lady Mary fair warning; and then we met unawares.” “And it was all my doing, please, uncle,” said Gussy, with a little curtsey. She was trembling with happiness, with agitation, with the mingled excitement and calm of great emotion; but still she could not shut out from herself the humour of the situation--“it was all my doing, please.”