"No?" The word was not acquiescent. In her own fashion Mrs. Browning could be graciously wilful. She moved in front of her son, looking up at him. "Yes—tired, I am afraid—but a few minutes will be enough. I must understand how things really are. It is not possible that any one could seriously accuse my dear husband of—carelessness in—" "Mr. Carden-Cox always speaks before he thinks." "Yes, he does that! But what did he mean by saying that all your money had been—stolen? Is it really lost? Has somebody run away?—In a bank or an office?"—with truly feminine vagueness. "I don't know that anybody has—exactly," faltered Fulvia. "Then it was not true about your money being—stolen, my dear?" "No; not true. It is a wicked falsehood, madre. There has been no such thing as stealing. You are never to think of that word again. It has been just a question of mistakes. Nobody could help things being as they are, and no one is to blame. There have been losses, of course. Money will go, sometimes; everybody knows that it will. A great deal of yours and of mine, too, is gone. Poor padre's health, you know—how could he keep accounts or attend to business?—and so things have got wrong. It wouldn't matter so much, only we have to leave the Grange, and to live in a small house; and that will grieve you. It does seem hard for you; but nothing else signifies. I can't think why troubles should come as they do, on the very people who deserve them least." "They come as God wills, Fulvie. I would not choose to be without them. But there are different kinds of trouble. I think I could bear anything, as long as—" and a quiver. "It would kill me to hear things said—said against him! Anything but that." "But you will not—you shall not! Nobody shall dare!" cried Fulvia. "If only Mr. Carden-Cox will hold his tongue, nobody else will speak. Nobody has known how much I was to have. Nigel, why don't you help me to comfort madre?" Then she regretted her words. Mrs. Browning's eyes again searched wistfully her son's face. A strange look crept into her eyes as she gazed—a look of hidden affright. Yet she turned with a faint smile to Fulvia. "My dear, will you go to the girls for a little while? If you do not mind!—I wish to speak to Nigel alone." Fulvia could not but obey; and when she was gone, the look of affright came back, hidden no longer. It blanched Mrs. Browning's cheeks, and widened the mournful eyes. "I must know—now!" she said, in an undertone. "Not when others were here, but now we are alone. What does it all mean?" He did not speak, and the look of terror increased. "It cannot be Albert—my husband!" she said. "He could not have called him that—with reason! But what did he mean? Not blame to my dear Albert?" "If only you would not ask, mother!"