“Oh, my dear Miss Dalton,” said she, “what an age it has been since we met! It seems like years! And when I wanted to see you so par--tic--u--lar-ly! And are you quite well? Have you quite recovered? Are you sure? How glad I am!” “Mrs. Mowbray,” said Edith, as soon as she could make herself heard, “I have sent word to you several times that I do not wish to see you again. You know the reason why as well as I do. I can only say that I am surprised at this persistence, and shall in future be under the necessity of shutting my doors against you.” Thus Edith, in spite of her severe afflictions, could still speak of the place as hers, and under her orders. “Oh, my dear Miss Dalton,” burst forth Mrs. Mowbray, “that is the very reason why I have so in--sist--ed on seeing you. To explain, you know--for there is nothing like an explanation.” “You may spare yourself the trouble,” said Edith. “I do not want any more explanations.” “Oh, but you positively must, you know,” said Mrs. Mowbray, in her most airy manner. “Pardon me. I wish to hear nothing whatever about it.” “It's that sad, sad boy,” said Mrs. Mowbray, coolly ignoring Edith's words, “and deeply has he repented. But do you know, dear, it was only his fondness for you. Pos--i--tive--ly nothing else, dear, but his fondness for you. Oh, how he has talked about it! He says he is willing to give up his right eye, or hand--I really forget which--to recall the past. My poor dear boy is very impetuous.” “Mrs. Mowbray, I do not wish to be unkind or rude, but you really force me to it.” “He's impetuous,” said Mrs. Mowbray, without noticing Edith, “but he's warm-hearted. He's a most affectionate son, and he is so affectionate toward you. It's all his fondness for you.” “Mrs. Mowbray, this is intolerable.” “Oh, Miss Dalton, you don't know--you really don't know. He has loved you ever since he first saw you--and so true! Why, he dotes on you. He was afraid that he would lose you. You know, that was the reason, why he interfered. But he says now most distinctly that he thinks his interference was quite un--war--rant--a--ble--quite, I assure you; my dear Miss Dalton.” Edith sat looking at this insolent woman with a clouded brow, not knowing whether to order her out of the house or not. But Mrs. Mowbray seemed beautifully unconscious of any offense. “The only thing that he has been talking about ever since it happened,” she continued, “is his sorrow. Oh, his sorrow! And it is deep, Miss Dalton. I never saw such deep sorrow. He really swears about it in a shocking manner; and that with him is a sign that his feelings are concerned very strongly. He always swears whenever he is deeply moved.” Edith at this started to her feet with a look in her eyes which showed Mrs. Mowbray that she would not be trifled with any longer. “Mrs. Mowbray,” said she, “I came down for the sole purpose of telling you that in future I shall dispense with the pleasure of your calls.” Mrs. Mowbray rose from her chair.