It was a cruel and uncalled-for sneer, and Travis, firing up, resented it for his friend, who appeared dumbfounded by the suggestion. “If she _had_ been Mrs. Clegg, sir, instead of Mrs. Aspinall, there would have been no necessity now for the interference of friends for her protection!” “Of course not,” sneered Aspinall. “Mr. Clegg is the white hen that never lays away; and now, having favoured you with one of Mrs. Ashton’s pithy proverbs, perhaps, gentlemen, you will favour me by taking your departure; this house and this lady are alike my property.” The value he set upon the latter article of property was testified by an immediate application of a horse-whip, so savagely applied that even Bob, and Luke the gardener, drawn thither by Augusta’s screams, wrenched the whip from him, and covered her escape, the latter declaring he would “no longer stay an’ witness sich wark.” To this man, who was also gatekeeper, Cicily crept at nightfall, and offered him a goodly sum down, out of her own savings, promising a much larger one from Mrs. Aspinall, with the offer of a new situation at Ardwick, if he would only suffer her ill-used mistress to “get clear o’ that brute’s violence.” The man, to his credit be it told, refused the money, but opened the gate; and, when Laurence wakened from his sodden sleep at noon the next day, wife, cook, and gardener were missing. They three had walked to Ardwick, and once there, though Augusta found sad havoc had been made in the place, all was her own, carriage included, and the domestics in charge welcomed her with gladness. Without waiting for even the show of a breakfast, Augusta hurried like a frightened bird to her mother’s nest in George Street, where alone she felt secure. Jabez and Travis were summoned, and when Aspinall, recovering from his stupor, sought his human property at Ardwick, he found the trustee under his father’s will—a Mr. Lillie—holding the place for Augusta in right of his trust. And in George Street he was refused admission, Mrs. Ashton justifying her daughter’s flight with “self-preservation is the first law of nature. A good Jack makes a good Jill. It is the last straw breaks the camel’s back. If you sow the wind, you must reap the whirlwind. He who beats his friend makes an enemy.” He threatened, and she answered— “Threatened folk live long. You had best, Mr. Aspinall, keep your breath to cool your porridge. Augusta’s friends will defend her from her only enemy. Pending separation _you_ see her no more.” He never saw her more. The deed of separation was _sealed_ but never signed.