What was to be done? It was all a mistake, but Paul could not say so, for his father did not condescend to make any accusation. Thus they walked on, fuming both with indignation and impatience. Now and then the young man eyed his father as if he could have taken him by the shoulders and shaken him, an undutiful form of the mutual exasperation. But Sir William was beyond this. What was the good? He would save his breath, he thought, for better purposes. Why should he talk himself hoarse while Paul laughed in his sleeve, not caring a straw for his arguments, meaning perhaps to laugh with the girl the next time they met over the ease with which his father had fallen into the snare. No, the fellow was not worthy of argument; he who was capable of masking an unworthy entanglement in this way. Let his mother try her hand upon him, the father thought, indignantly. She might do something. A woman’s tears and suffering are sometimes more effectual than reason. Sir William felt in his indignant disgust that to let his own beautiful and perfect wife enter the lists against this--hussy--yes, he was coarse in his vexation and distress--to let Lady Markham, the pride of the county, a woman whom it was a glory for a man to have won--to let her come down from her pedestal and humble herself to the pleadings and the tears of an anxious mother for a boy so little worthy of her as to be capable of such a connection--was a disgrace. But then he knew that was not how she would feel it. She would not think of her own dignity. And she would get it all out of him--women can; they do not disdain to return and return to the inquiry, to ask question after question; he would not be able to elude her examination. She would get it all out of him--how far it had gone, all about it. And then some strong step must be taken--something must be done--though, for the moment, he could not think what that something should be. “I see them at last,” said Alice from the window. “Oh, Paul! Papa is coming along quite quietly, not scolding him. He is looking--not so angry. It is so natural to see them walking along--quite friendly. He is not scolding----” “Oh, my dear! do not use such a word. Scold! we might scold Harry for climbing trees: but this is too serious, far too serious. How is my poor boy looking? Oh, I hope--I hope your papa has not been hard upon him. Men forget that they were once young and foolish too.’ “That was what I meant,” said Alice. “I wonder---- they are not saying anything to each other, mamma.”