Crauford’s face, not usually complicated in expression, was a curious study; solemnity, regret, a sense of injury, a sense of importance, struggled on it, and he cleared his throat faintly now and then, as some people will when they are ill at ease. ‘I am sorry to tell you, ma’am, that your trouble has been useless. I have had a great disappointment--a very great one: Miss Raeburn has refused my offer.’ He looked round at his sisters as though appealing to them to expostulate with Providence. ‘What?’ cried his mother. ‘She has refused,’ repeated Crauford. ‘_Refused?_ Oh, my dear boy, it is impossible! _I_ refuse--I refuse to believe it! Nonsense, my dear Crauford! It is unheard of!’ Mary, who had never taken her eyes off her brother’s face, laid down her needle and came forward. ‘Sit down!’ thundered her mother. ‘Sit down, and go on with your work! Or you can leave the room, you and Agneta. There is nothing so detestable as curiosity. Leave the room this moment!’ Dreadfully disappointed, they obeyed. Though it was safer in the hall, the other side of the door was far more entertaining. Crauford moved uneasily about; he certainly was not to blame for what had happened, but the two lightning-conductors had gone, and the clouds looked black around him. Also he had no tact. ‘You need not be annoyed, ma’am,’ he began; ‘you did not approve of my choice.’ ‘Happy as I am to see you deterred from such a fatal step, I cannot submit to the indignity to which you--and we all--have been subjected,’ said his mother. ‘That a _paid companion_ should have refused _my son_ is one of those things I find it hard to accept.’ ‘She may yet change,’ replied he. ‘I told her I should give her time.’ Lady Fordyce’s prominent eyes were fixed. ‘Do you mean to tell me that you will ask her again? That you will so far degrade yourself as to make another offer?’ He made a sign of assent. She threw up her hands. ‘What have I done?’ she exclaimed, addressing an imaginary listener--‘what have I done that my own children should turn against me? When have I failed in my duty towards them? Have I ever thought of myself? Have I ever failed to sacrifice myself where their interests were concerned?’ She turned suddenly on Crauford. ‘No, never,’ he murmured. During her life Lady Fordyce had seldom bestirred herself for anyone, but habit had made everybody in the house perjure themselves at moments like the present. Declamation was one of her trump-cards; besides, her doctor had once hinted that apoplexy was not an impossible event. ‘As a mother, I have surely _some_ right to consideration. I do not say much--I trust I understand these modern times too well for that--but I beg you will spare us further mortification. Are there no young ladies of suitable position that you must set your heart upon this charity-girl of Lady Eliza Lamont’s?’ ‘I don’t understand why you should be so much set against her, ma’am; if you only saw Miss Raeburn you would be surprised.’