While all these discussions were going on in Berkeley Square, Edgar was preparing in the most leisurely and easy-minded way for his return home. He had forgotten the urgency of Clare’s letter, but he was glad to emancipate himself from the social treadmill which he did not understand, and set his face again towards the fair green country and his duties and his home. It seemed so rational a life in comparison that he had even a higher opinion of himself when he turned his back upon town and its amusements. Not for anything bad he had encountered there; the wickedness had not thrust itself upon him--his own temper and thoughts leaving him out of harmony with it; but the foolishness had struck him with double force. Wickedness itself is better than no meaning, at least it is less contemptible, less bewildering, more comprehensible. He was not only going home, but he was about to change the fashion of his life, to begin who could tell what alterations in everything about him; and a little gentle excitement was in his mind; not any impassioned sentiment, not any whirlwind of fear and hope. He could not even say to himself that the happiness of his life depended on Gussy’s reply, or on the chance whether or not she would share the rest of his life with him. But still the thought of so sweet a companion moved him with a little thrill of pleasurable emotion. There was still the chance that he should meet them the next day, a chance which Lady Augusta did not take into consideration; and as the shopping occupied the girls and withdrew them from the usual regions of society, the fact was that he did not meet them anywhere, and found the day hang very heavy on his hands in consequence. When he fell suddenly upon Ada late in the afternoon, returning accompanied by her maid from a visit to some “Sisters” with whom she was allied, Edgar brightened up instantly. He came to her side, and insisted on walking with her across the Park. She had very little to say, except at moments when her sympathy was in forcible requisition, and was not in the least an amusing companion. But he did his best to talk to her, and showed her clearly how glad he was to see her. “I was told I was not wanted at Berkeley Square to-day,” he said, “which has been very doleful for me. I shall ride over to Thorne on Tuesday and bid you welcome home.” “I am sure mamma will be pleased to see you,” said gentle Ada; and she, too, went home a little excited by the encounter. “He said he would ride over on Tuesday to bid us welcome,” she repeated to Lady Augusta the moment she entered. “So, perhaps, mamma, you will not require to send that invitation which troubles Gussy so much. It is best when these things come of themselves.” “So it is, my dear,” said Lady Augusta. “I knew he was the nicest fellow! he shall stay to dinner if he comes.” And so that matter was settled. Gussy even made up her mind what dress she would put on to