Lady Markham’s face grew whiter and whiter. It did not occur to her that this very advice might be conveyed in a tone which would make Paul wildly indignant at the supposed immunity and privileged condition with which his friend credited him. Such an explanation did not occur to her. Dismay stole over her heart; it was then as Sir William thought--Paul was not telling them the truth. The cause of his wild project was not philosophy and foolish opinions, since even his leader disowned it. It was something else. Her heart sank within her, she lost the control of her better sense. “If it is not you,” she said, “who is it then--who is it, Mr. Spears? You have--a daughter?” This seemed to come from her in spite of herself. “A daughter--I have three,” he said, “but what have they--” here he stopped, and getting up from his bench gave vent to a low whistle of astonishment and perplexity. He was as much surprised as she could be, and not much more pleased. He gazed at her a moment speechless. “Can that be so?” he said. Impossible to sink lower than Lady Markham’s heart sank--it seemed to melt away altogether in humiliation and disappointment. She looked at him piteously, the tears so gathering into her eyes that she could scarcely see his face. “Oh, Mr. Spears,” she cried, “you know what such a connection always comes to; disappointment on both sides--the woman’s as well as the man’s. Whatever his feelings may be now, he would soon find out that she was not--like the women he had been used to; and she would find herself among--habits that were not congenial to her. Oh, Mr. Spears, for both their sakes--you that Paul thinks so much of, you whose opinion he follows so meekly--oh, will you not exert your authority, and forbid it--forbid it altogether?” Lady Markham lost control of the words she was saying. She did not think whether this was likely to be a mode of entreaty that would be grateful to him. She lost her own fine sense of what was fit and seemly, in the eagerness of the appeal which might save her boy. He stood over her, looking at her, changed she could not tell how. His face clouded over before her eyes. At first this seemed only the effect of the tears that blinded her, but when these latter fell she became aware that the countenance which had been so good-humoured and friendly was full now of a very different sentiment. The man seemed to have expanded even in outline as he stood between her and the light.