Lady Augusta paused, distracted between prudence and pity. Then she drew herself up with a tremulous dignity. “Mr. Fazakerly has daughters of his own,” she said. “I am not afraid that he will betray mine. Yes, Mr. Arden, Gussy has come with me. She insisted upon coming. There has never been anything between them,” she added, turning to the lawyer. “There might have been, had he not found out this; but the moment he discovered----, like a true gentleman, as he is----” Here Lady Augusta had to pause to stifle her tears. “And my Gussy’s heart is so warm. She would not let him go without bidding him good-bye. I told her it was not prudent, but she would not listen to me. Of course, it must end here; but our hearts are breaking, and we could not let him go without one good-bye.” She stopped, with a sob, and once more held out her hand. Poor woman! even at that moment it was more herself than him she bewailed. Standing there in his strength and youth, it did not seem possible to believe that the world could go very badly with him; but how unfortunate she was! Ada first, and then Gussy; and such a son as he would have been--somebody to trust, whatever happened. She held out her hand to him, and drew him close to her, and wept over him. How unfortunate she was! “And Gussy?” said Edgar eagerly. “I put her into the little morning-room, Clare’s room,” said Lady Augusta. “Go to her for a few minutes; Mr. Fazakerly will not think it wrong of me, I am sure. And oh, my dear boy, I know I can trust you not to go too far--not to suggest anything impossible, any correspondence--Edgar, do not try my poor child too far.” He pressed her hand, and went away, with a kind of sweet despair in his heart. It was despair: hope and possibility had all gone out of any dream he had ever entertained on this subject; but still it was sweet, not bitter. Lady Augusta sat silent for some minutes, trying to compose herself. “I beg your pardon,” she said; “indeed I can’t help it. Oh, Mr. Fazakerly, could no arrangement be made? I cannot help crying. Oh, what a dear fellow he is! and going away from us with his heart broken. Could nothing be done?--could no arrangement be made?” “A great many things could be done, if he was not behaving like a fool,” said Mr. Fazakerly. “I beg your pardon; but it is too much for me. He is like an idiot; he will hear no reason. Nobody but himself would have taken any notice. Nobody but himself----”