Aumerle met his brother at the door. “Any good tidings?” he exclaimed. Augustine shook his head doubtingly as they entered the sitting-room together. “The earl is extremely indignant,” he said, removing the hat from his heated brow; “I have been arguing with him for more than an hour, and I have my doubts as to whether we have come to a satisfactory conclusion at last.” “Oh, on what does he decide?” cried Mabel. “He consents at length to pardon the countess’s act of foolish petulance, on condition that she ask his forgiveness, and return this very day to her home.” “Reasonable terms!” said Mrs. Aumerle. “Yes,” assented the vicar, but the little furrow of anxious thought still remained on his brow. “Augustine,” he said to his brother, “will you go and communicate your message to Annabella?” “Nay, nay, I have done my part. If I have more influence with my old college-companion, you have more power with your niece. I suspect that your task will be at least as difficult as mine, notwithstanding your gentle auxiliaries. I have so little expectation of your success, that I have ordered a conveyance to take me to Aspendale an hour hence, that I may leave your dwelling more free to accommodate its new guest.” “I hope,” said Mrs. Aumerle, “that the conveyance will rather be required to take Annabella back to the home which she should never have quitted.” “I hope so too,” observed Augustine with a smile; “but I own that I have my doubts and my fears on the matter.” The vicar at once proceeded to the room in which Ida was endeavouring, though with little effect, to soothe the irritated spirit of her cousin. Annabella rose on the clergyman’s entrance, and Ida, from a feeling of delicacy, silently left the apartment. Aumerle gently communicated to his impatient auditor the message which he bore. “His pardon!” exclaimed Annabella, striking her little hand with vehemence on a table which was beside her; “his pardon, forsooth! and for what? Nay, then, I see the truth of the words— ‘Forgiveness to the injured doth belong, He never pardons who hath done the wrong,’” and she laughed in the bitterness of her soul. “My dear niece,” said the vicar tenderly but gravely, “even by your own account you had given just cause of displeasure to your husband, before he spoke the hasty word which you find it so difficult to forgive. Prejudice may blind you—” “Uncle, let me have no more of this; I can’t bear it!” exclaimed Annabella, rising in nervous excitement. “If I am in your way—in Mrs. Aumerle’s way, I will leave the house at once, go to London—an hotel—anywhere—but I will not—” Her voice rose, and again she struck the table as she repeated the words,—“I will not go and beg pardon of the man who turned me out of my own room, and in the presence of a menial servant.”