During the whole of this very trying interview Mowbray had not uttered a single word. He knew that if he opened his lips, the indignation that burned at his heart would burst forth with a vehemence he should no longer be able to control. He felt his heart throb, and every pulse so fiercely keeping time to it, that he was terrified at himself, and fearful lest the tide of passion that worked thus fearfully within him should drive him to do, or even to say what he might repent, he hastened from the room, leaving Mr. Cartwright very comfortably persuaded that the eloquence which had been bestowed on him, if it sometimes failed in converting those who heard him to his doctrine, was of a nature well calculated to enforce his authority; a species of success which perhaps satisfied him better still. The unfortunate Charles took refuge in Helen's dressing room from the storm that raged in his bosom. He longed to hear the gentle voice of his sister with as much eagerness as one panting in fever longs for a cool breeze or a refreshing stream; and when he entered the room and found it unoccupied, he felt as if that misfortune were greater than all which had fallen upon him before. In a state of the most pitiable depression of spirits he seated himself most forlornly on a _chaise longue_ that stood in a recess as far as possible from the windows, and there, resting his head on the side of it, and covering his face with his hands, he remained for a considerable time perfectly immoveable, and quite as miserable as his worst enemy could wish. At length the door opened, and a female entered. Charles sprang forward to meet her, and very narrowly escaped encircling Miss Torrington in his arms. She drew back, certainly, but hardly with so sudden a movement as that of Mowbray, who, colouring and stammering in extreme confusion, said as he retreated to his former place, "I beg your pardon: I came here to look for Helen." "And so did I, Mr. Mowbray: I cannot think where she has hid herself.--But you do not look like yourself, Charles. Has Mr. Cartwright been speaking to you? I heard him tell his wife that he had desired you to meet him in the library." "In his library, Miss Torrington; pray call it as he does _his_ library--But what a fool am I to care thus for a word! It is his library; the man says right. But what then is poor Helen? what is Fanny? what am I?" His features expressed such terrible agony of mind, that Rosalind almost felt afraid to leave him, and stood at some distance from him as he sat, with her looks riveted upon his face and her eyes overflowing with tears. "Tell me, dear Charles," she said, "what is it that has happened to you? I will go and seek Helen, and bring her to you in a moment. Only tell me before I go if any new thing has happened to make us all more miserable than we were. Is it not common cause, Mr. Mowbray? For Heaven's sake tell me what has befallen you!"