But no one moved. Lady Markham had sunk into her chair too feeble to stand. Her eyes were fixed upon her son and daughter standing together. They seemed to have floated away from her on the top of this wave of strange invasion. She thought there was anger on Paul’s pale stern face, but her heart was too faint to go to them, to take the part she ought to take. Did they think she was to blame? How was she to blame? She almost thought so herself as she looked pathetically across the room at her children, who seemed to have forsaken her. Mr. Scrivener made a great rustling and scraping, tying up his papers, putting them together--these strange documents along with the others; for Gus had made no effort to retain them. The lawyer felt with a sinking of his heart that the last doubt of the reality of this claim was removed when the claimant allowed him to keep the certificates which proved his case. In such a matter only men who are absolutely honest put faith in others. “He is not afraid of any appeal to the registers,” Mr. Scrivener said to himself. He made as much noise as he could over the tying up of these papers; but nobody moved to go. At last he took out his watch and examined it. “Can any one tell me about the trains to town?” he said. This took away all excuse from old Mr. Markham, who very unwillingly put himself in motion. “I must go too,” he said. “Can I put you down at the station?” And then these two persons stood together for a minute or more comparing their watches, of which one was a little slow and the other a little fast. “I think perhaps it will suit me better,” the lawyer said, “to wait for the night train.” Then the other reluctantly took his leave. “I am glad that anyhow it can make no difference to you,” he said, pressing Lady Markham’s hand; “that would have been worse, much worse, than anything that can happen to Paul.” The insult made her shrink and wince, and this pleased the revengeful old man who had never forgiven her marriage. Then he went to Mr. Gus with a great show of friendliness. “We’re relations, too,” he said, “and I hope will be friends. Can I set you down anywhere?” Mr. Gus looked at him with great severity and did not put out his hand. “I can’t help hurting them, more or less,” he said, “for I’ve got to look after my own rights; but if you think I’ll make friends with any one that takes pleasure in hurting them---- I am much obliged to you,” Mr. Gus added with much state, “but I am at home, and I don’t want to be set down anywhere.”