What a different reception it was from that she had given him, when--coming, as she supposed, on the same errand which really brought him now--he had to tell her of his loss of everything! Then the whole house had been pleasantly excited over the impending proposal; and Gussy had been kissed and petted by all her sisters, as the heroine of the drama; and Lady Augusta’s motherly heart had swelled with gratitude to God that she had secured for her daughter not only a good match, but a good man. It was difficult for Edgar, at least, to shut out all recollection of the one scene in the other. He answered with less humility than he had shown before, and with a dignity which impressed her, in spite of herself, “Yes, there is a very grave reason for it,” he said--“the gravest reason--without which I should not have intruded upon you. I made you a voluntary promise some time since, seeing your dismay at my re-appearance, that I would not interfere with any of your plans, or put myself in your way.” “Yes,” said Lady Augusta, in all the horror of suspense. Gussy, behind, whispered, “You have not!--you have not!” till her mother turned and looked at her, when she sank upon the nearest seat, and covered her face with her hands. “I might say that I have not, according to the mere letter of my word,” said Edgar; “but I will not stand by that. Lady Augusta, I have come to tell you that I have broken my promise. I find I had no right to make it. I answered for myself, but not for another dearer than myself. The pledge was given in ignorance, and foolishly. I have broken it, and I have come to ask you to forgive me.” “You have broken your word? Mr. Earnshaw, I was not aware that gentlemen ever did so. I do not believe you are capable of doing so,” she cried, in great agitation. “Gussy, go upstairs, you have nothing to do with this discussion--you were not a party to the bargain. I cannot--cannot allow myself to be treated in this way! Mr. Earnshaw, think what you are saying! You cannot go back from your word!” “Forgive me,” he said, “I have done it. Had I known all, I would not have given the promise; I told Lady Mary Tottenham so; my pledge was for myself, to restrain my own feelings. From the moment that it was betrayed to me that she too had feelings to restrain, my very principle of action, my rule of honour, was changed. It was no longer my duty to deny myself to obey you. My first duty was to her, Lady Augusta--if in that I disappoint you, if I grieve you----” “You do more than disappoint me--you _horrify_ me!” cried Lady Augusta. “You make me think that nothing is to be relied upon--no man’s word to be trusted, No, no, we must have no more of this,” she said, with vehemence. “Forget what you have said, Mr. Earnshaw, and I will try to forget it. Go to your room, Gussy--this is no scene for you.”