'No? Oh, then where is my son? He, perhaps, can explain; and pray, my dear, what are these?' 'These caskets contain the jewels which Mr. Wylder gave me about six weeks since. I had intended restoring them to him; but as his return is delayed, I mean to place them in Chelford's hands; because I have made up my mind, a week ago, to put an end to this odious engagement. It is all over.' Lady Chelford stared at the audacious young lady with a look of incensed amazement for some seconds, unable to speak. 'Upon my word, young lady! vastly fine and independent! You _chasser_ Mr. Wylder without one moment's notice, and without deigning to consult me, or any other person capable of advising you. You are about to commit as gross and indelicate a breach of faith as I recollect anywhere to have heard of. What will be thought?--what will the world say?--what will your friends say? Will you be good enough to explain yourself? _I_'ll not undertake your excuses, I promise you.' 'Excuses! I don't think of excuses, Lady Chelford; no person living has a right to demand one.' 'Very tragic, young lady, and quite charming!' sneered the dowager angrily. 'Neither one nor the other, I venture to think; but quite true, Lady Chelford,' answered Miss Brandon, haughtily. 'I don't believe you are serious, Dorcas,' said Lady Chelford, more anxiously, and also more gently. 'I can't suppose it. I'm an old woman, my dear, and I sha'n't trouble you very long. I can have no object in misleading you, and you have never experienced from me anything but kindness and affection. I think you might trust me a little, Dorcas--but that, of course, is for you, you are your own mistress now--but, at least, you may reconsider the question you propose deciding in so extraordinary a way. I allow you might do much better than Mark Wylder, but also worse. He has not a title, and his estate is not enough to carry the point _a force d'argent_; I grant all that. But _together_ the estates are more than most titled men possess; and the real point is the fatal slip in your poor uncle's will, which makes it so highly important that you and Mark should be united; bear that in mind, dear Dorcas. I look for his return every day--every hour, indeed--and no doubt his absence will turn out to have been unavoidable. You must not act precipitately, and under the influence of mere pique. His absence, I will lay my life, will be satisfactorily accounted for; he has set his heart upon this marriage, and I really think you will almost drive him mad if you act as you threaten.'