He stood something like a stag at bay--half doubting whether to slink away, whether to turn and beard his pursuers. Barbara Fauntleroy threw wide the door. "You had better quit us, I think, Mr. Carr." "I see what it is," said he, at length, to the Miss Fauntleroys. "You are just now too prejudiced to listen to reason. The tale that woman has been telling you of me is a mistaken one; and when you are calm, I will endeavour to convince you of it." "Calm, man!" cried Barbara, with a laugh. "_I_'m calm enough. It isn't such an interlude, as this, that could take any calmness away from me. It has been as good to me as a scene at the play." But the gentleman did not wait to hear the conclusion. He had escaped through the open door. Those left stared at one another. "Come along," said Lizzie, with unruffled composure; "don't let the dinner get colder than it is. I dare say I'm well rid of him. Where's our glasses of champagne? A drop will do us all good. Oh dear, Mrs. Dundyke! _Pray_ don't suffer it to trouble you!" She had sat down in a far corner, poor woman, with her face hidden, drowned in a storm of silent tears. The event, quickly though it had transpired--over, as it were, in a moment--exercised a powerful influence on the spirits of Mrs. Dundyke. It brought the old trouble so vividly before her, that she could not rally again as the days went on; and she told Mildred that she should go back to London, but would come to her again at a future time. The resolution was a sudden one. Mrs. Arkell happened to call the same day, and was told of it. "Going back to London to-morrow!" repeated Mrs. Arkell in consternation; and she hastened to her sister's room. Mrs. Dundyke had her drawers all out, and her travelling trunk open, beginning to put things together. Mrs. Arkell went in, and closed the door. "Betsey, you are going back, I hear; therefore I must at once ask the question that I have been intending to ask before your departure. It may sound to you somewhat premature: I don't know. Will you forget and forgive?" "Forget and forgive what?" "My coldness during the past years." "I am willing to forgive it, Charlotte, if that will do you any good. To forget it is an impossibility." Mrs. Dundyke spoke with civil indifference. She was wrapping different toilet articles in paper, and she continued her occupation. Mrs. Arkell, in a state of bitter vexation at the turn things had taken, terribly self-repentant that she should have pursued a line of conduct so inimical to her own interests, sat down on a low chair, and fairly burst into tears. "Why, what's the matter, Charlotte?" "You are a rich woman now, and therefore you despise us. We are growing poor." "How can you talk such nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Dundyke, screwing down the silver stopper of a scent-bottle. "If I became as rich and as grand as a duke, it could never cause me to make the slightest difference in my conduct to anybody, high or low."