Who would help him in his distress? The Altringhams were still in Scotland, and he knew well that, though Lady Altringham was fond of him, and though Lord Altringham liked him, there was no assistance to be had there of the kind that he needed. His dearly intimate distinguished friends in Norfolk, with whom he had been always "George," would not care if they heard that he had been crucified. It seemed to him that the world was very hard and very cruel. Who did care for him? There were two women who cared for him, who really loved him, who would make almost any sacrifice for him, who would even forget his sins, or at least forgive them. He was sure of that. Emily Hotspur loved him, but there were no means by which he could reach Emily Hotspur. She loved him, but she would not so far disobey her father and mother, or depart from her own word, as to receive even a letter from him. But the other friend who loved him,--he still could see her. He knew well the time at which he would find her at home, and some three or four hours after his interview with Mr. Hart he knocked at Mrs. Morton's door. "Well, George," she said, "how does your wooing thrive?" He had no preconceived plan in coming to her. He was possessed by that desire, which we all of us so often feel, to be comforted by sympathy; but he hardly knew even how to describe the want of it. "It does not thrive at all," he said, throwing himself gloomily into an easy chair. "That is bad news. Has the lady turned against you?" "Oh no," said he, moodily,--"nothing of that sort." "That would be impossible, would it not? Fathers are stern, but to such a one as you daughters are always kind. That is what you mean; eh, George?" "I wish you would not chaff me, Lucy. I am not well, and I did not come to be chaffed." "The chaffing is all to be on one side, is it, George? Well; I will say nothing to add to your discomforts. What is it ails you? You will drink liqueurs after dinner. That is what makes you so wretched. And I believe you drink them before dinner too." "Hardly ever. I don't do such a thing three times in a month. It is not that; but things do trouble me so." "I suppose Sir Harry is not well pleased." "He is doing what he ought not to do, I must say that;--quite what I call ungentlemanlike. A lawyer should never be allowed to interfere between gentlemen. I wonder who would stand it, if an attorney were set to work to make all manner of inquiries about everything that he had ever done?" "I could not, certainly. I should cave in at once, as the boys say." "Other men have been as bad as I have, I suppose. He is sending about everywhere." "Not only sending, George, but going himself. Do you know that Sir Harry did me the honour of visiting me?" "No!" "But he did. He sat there in that very chair, and talked to me in a manner that nobody ever did before, certainly. What a fine old man he is, and how handsome!" "Yes; he is a good-looking old fellow." "So like you, George."