grew furious with Edgar as she thought it all over. For a caprice! It must be a caprice. He said it was not for Gussy Thornleigh, which would have been a feasible reason, though frivolous. And what then was it for? A foolish boyish fancy, an inclination towards pleasure-seeking and the follies of London society. Nothing more! And to risk two lives for that! To break up all the combinations that were daily growing into shape and becoming practicable--all for a vulgar fancy to go to town! Clare was very angry with her brother. She thought more meanly of him than she had ever done before. “It is his education,” she said to herself. “He must have been used to all kinds of junketing, as people are abroad, and he has tried to get into our quiet English ways without effect. And he feels he must get back to his natural element. Oh, heavens, _my_ brother!” This was how poor Edgar was judged in the midst of his self-denial--the usual fate of those who think more of others than of themselves. It was not till the very day before her brother’s departure that Clare acquired a clearer light upon the subject. She had gone to visit Miss Somers, which was a duty she had much neglected of late. The village too had been neglected; she could scarcely tell why. “I have been so busy,” she said, “with visitors in the house. Visitors are so rare in Arden, one gets out of the way of them; but now Edgar is going away, of course I shall be quiet enough.” This she said with a sigh; but Miss Somers was not quick enough at the first moment to understand that Clare had sighed. She was full of other subjects, and anxious for information on her own account. “Dear Edgar, he is so nice,” she said. “A young man, you know, who must have so many things--but just as pleased---- Do you know, I think he is--a little--fond of me, Clare! Of course I don’t mean anything but what is right. I am old enough to be---- And then to think he should ask in that nice way----Fancy, Clare, my advice! If it had been my brother, you know--or anybody--but my advice!” “Did Edgar ask your advice?” said Clare, with a smile; and she said to herself what a deceiver he is--he will do anything to please people. As if anybody could be the better of Miss Somers’s advice! “It was not for himself, my dear. Of course it can’t be very---- I may tell _you_. That friend of his, Clare, and the sister, you know---- And then somebody that was fond of her--and what was he to do? It was as good as a novel--indeed, I think it was rather better. Don’t you remember that story where there was---- Oh, my dear child, I am sure you remember! There was such a sweet girl--Helena was her name--or no--I think it was Adela, or something--and she had a lover. Just the same---- And then the good brother in such distress. Clare, why do you turn so red? I am sure you know----”