“I hope not,” said Miss Somers promptly, “oh, I hope not--after all this about the Pimpernels--and---- But that was your cousin, not you. Oh, no, I hope not. What would Clare do? If Clare were married first, then perhaps---- But it would be so strange; Mrs. Arden--Edgar, fancy! In my state of health, you know, I couldn’t go to call on her, my dear. She wouldn’t expect--but then sometimes young ladies are very---- And perhaps she won’t know me nor how helpless---- I hope she’ll be very nice, I am sure--and--pretty, and---- Some people think it doesn’t matter--about beauty, you know, and that---- It’s a long, long time since I took any interest in such things--but when I was a young girl, it used to be said---- Now I know what you are thinking in yourself--how vain and all that--but it is not vanity, my dear. You like to look nice, you know, and you like to please people, and you like--of course, you like to look nice. When I was young there were people that used to say--the little one--they always called me the little one--or little Letty, or something---- I suppose because they were fond of me. Edgar, everybody is fond of you when you are young.” “And when you are old too,” said Edgar; “everybody has been fond of you all your life, I am sure--and will be when you are a hundred--of course you know that.” “Ah, my dear,” said Miss Somers, shaking her head. “Ah my dear!”--and two soft little tears came into the corners of her eyes--“when you are old---- Yes. I know people are so kind--they pity you--and then every one tries; but when you were young, oh, it was _so_---- There was no trying then. People thought there was nobody like---- and then such quantities of things were to happen---- But sometimes they never happen. It was my own fault, of course. There was Mr. Templeton and Captain Ormond, and--what is the good of going over----? That is long past, my dear, long past----” And Miss Somers put her hands up softly to her eyes. She had a sort of theoretical regret for the opportunity lost, and yet, at the same time, a theoretical satisfaction that she had not tempted her fate--a satisfaction which was entirely theoretical; for did she not dream of her children who might have been, and of one who called Mamma? But Miss Somers was incapable of mentioning such a thing to Edgar, who was a “gentleman.” To have betrayed herself would have been impossible. Arthur Arden was below waiting in the Doctor’s study, and he came out as Edgar came down and joined him. He had not been idle in this moment of waiting. Something told him that this was a great crisis, a moment not to be neglected; and he had been arranging his plan of operations. Only Edgar, for this once thoughtless and unwary, thought of no crisis, until Tuesday came, when he should go to Thorne. He thought of nothing that was likely to change his happy state so long as he remained at home. CHAPTER VI.