"That's very curious. It has been broken off ever so long--soon after poor papa's death, in fact. But you know what Geraldine is--so reserved--almost impenetrable, as one may say. I knew nothing of what had happened myself till one day--months after the breach had occurred, it seems--when I made some allusion to Geraldine's marriage, she stopped me, in her cold, proud way, saying, 'It's just as well I should tell you that that affair is all off, Laura. Mr. Fairfax and I have wished each other good-bye for ever.' That's what I call a crushing blow for a sister, Clarissa. You know how I had set my heart upon that marriage." "I am very sorry," faltered Clarissa. "They had quarrelled, I suppose." "Quarrelled! O, dear no; she had not seen him since she left Hale with Frederick and me, and they parted with every appearance of affection. No; there had been some letters between them, that was all. I have never been able to discover the actual cause of their parting. Geraldine refused to answer any questions, in a most arbitrary manner. It is a hard thing, Clarissa; for I know that she loved him." "And where is Lady Geraldine now?" "At Hale, with my children. She has no regular home of her own now, you see, poor girl, and she did not care about another season in London--she has had enough of that kind of thing--so she begged me to let her stay at the Castle, and superintend the governesses, and amuse herself in her own way. Life is full of trouble, Clary!" and here the mistress of Hale Castle, and of some seventy thousand per annum, gave a despondent sigh. "Have you seen Mr. Fairfax since you came from Germany?" asked Clarissa. "Yes, I have met him once--some months ago. You may be sure that I was tolerably cool to him. He has been very little in society lately, and has been leading rather a wild life in Paris, I hear. A prudent marriage would have been his redemption; but I daresay it will end in his throwing himself away upon some worthless person." It was a relief to Clarissa to hear that George Fairfax was in Paris, though that was very near. But in her ignorance of his whereabouts she had fancied him still nearer, and in all her London festivities had been tormented by a perpetual dread of meeting him. Many times even she had imagined that she saw his face across the crowd, and had been relieved to find it was only a face that bore some faint resemblance to his.