They were all there. The table was covered with patterns for Mary’s trousseau, and she herself was examining a heap of shawls, with Ada, at the window. Gussy, expectant, and changing colour so often that her agitation had already been remarked upon several times this morning, had kept close to her mother. Beatrice was practising a piece of music at the little piano in the corner, which was the girls’ favourite refuge for their musical studies. They all stopped in their various occupations, and turned round when he came in. Lady Augusta sprang to her feet, and put out one hand in awe and horror, to hold him at arm’s length. Her first look was for him, her second for Gussy, to whom she said, “Go--instantly!” as distinctly as eyes could speak; but, for once in her life, Gussy would not understand her mother’s eyes. And, what was worst of all, the two young ones, Mary and Beatrice, when they caught sight of Edgar, uttered each a cry of delight, and rushed upon him with eager hands outstretched. “Oh! you have come home for It!--say you have come home for It!” cried Mary, to whom her approaching wedding was the one event which shadowed earth and heaven. “Girls!” cried Lady Augusta, severely, “do not lay hold upon Mr. Earnshaw in that rude way. Go upstairs, all of you. Mr. Earnshaw’s business, no doubt, is with me.” “Oh! mamma, mayn’t I talk to him for a moment?” cried Mary, aggrieved, and unwilling, in the fulness of her privileges, to acknowledge herself still under subjection. But Lady Augusta’s eyes spoke very decisively this time, and Ada set the example by hastening away. Even Ada, however, could not resist the impulse of putting her hand in Edgar’s as she passed him. She divined everything in a moment. She said “God bless you!” softly, so that no one could hear it but himself. Only Gussy did not move. “I must stay, mamma,” she said, in tones so vehement that even Lady Augusta was awed by them. “I will never disobey you again, but I must stay!” And then Edgar was left alone, facing the offended lady. Gussy had stolen behind her, whence she could throw a glance of sympathy to her betrothed, undisturbed by her mother. Lady Augusta did not ask him to sit down. She seated herself in a stately manner, like a queen receiving a rebel. “Mr. Earnshaw,” she said, solemnly, “after all that has passed between us, and all you have promised--I must believe that there is some very grave reason for your unexpected visit to-day.”