"Oh Lord! you shake the breath out of me, Mr. Arthur--you do," cried the woman. "Who? why, who should it be, to be sure, but him as had the best right after yourself to take Miss Susan to her mamma? You've crossed her on the road, poor dear," said the adherent of the house, wringing her hands; "but she was going to her ma--that's where she was going. Mr. Arthur's letter gave her a turn; and then, to be sure, when Mr. Fordham came, the very first thing he thought upon was to take her to her mamma." Vincent groaned aloud. In his first impulse of fury he seized his hat and rushed to the door to pursue them anyhow, by any means. Then, remembering how vain was the attempt, came back again, dashed down the hat he had put on, and seized upon the railway book in his pocket, to see when he could start upon that desperate mission. Minister as he was, a muttered curse ground through his teeth--villain! coward! destroyer!--curse him! His passion was broken in the strangest way by the composed sounds of his mother's voice. "It was very natural," she said, with dry tones, taking time to form the words as if they choked her; "and of course, as you say, Williams, Mr. Fordham had the best right. He will take her to his mother's--or--or leave her in my son's rooms in Carlingford; and as she has Mary with her--Arthur," continued his mother, fixing a warning emphatic look upon him as he raised his astonished eyes to her face, "you know that is quite right: after you--Mr. Fordham is--the only person--that could have taken care of her in her journey. There, I am satisfied. Perhaps, Williams, you had better go to bed. My son and I have something to talk of, now I feel myself." "I'll go light the fire, and get you a cup of tea--oh Lord! what Miss Susan would say if she knew you were here, and had got such a fright!" cried the old servant; "but now you're composed, there's nothing as'll do you good like a cup of tea." "Thank you--yes; make it strong, and Mr. Arthur will have some too," said the widow; "and take care the kettle is boiling; and then, Williams, you must not mind us, but go to bed." Vincent threw down his book, and stared at her with something of that impatience and half-contempt which had before moved him. "If the world were breaking up, I suppose women could still drink tea!" he said, bitterly.