“I am sorry to say,” said Edith, “that it was not the rudeness of the porter that was offensive, but rather the rudeness of yourself.” Wiggins started. “Of myself?” he repeated. “Certainly,” said Edith; “in refusing to admit one who is my dearest friend on earth.” Wiggins drew a long breath, and looked troubled. “It was distressing to me,” said he at length; “but it could not be.” At this, Edith felt inexpressibly galled, but for the time restrained herself. “Perhaps you would have been pleased,” said she, “if I had gone away with her.” “Oh no,” said Wiggins, dreamily--“oh no.” “I thought for a time of doing so,” said Edith; “and in that case I should have come to-morrow, or as soon as possible, with the officers of the law, to reply to your orders.” At this Wiggins looked at her with a strange and solemn glance, which puzzled Edith. “You would have regretted it,” said he, “eventually.” “Few would have done as I did,” said Edith, “in coming here alone.” “You did right,” said Wiggins. “At the same time,” said Edith, firmly, “if I have forborne once, I assure you I shall not do so again. You are in a wrong course altogether. I shall put an end to this at once. And I tell you now that this place must be made ready for Miss Plympton tomorrow. I will have that brutal porter dismissed at once. As to yourself and the housekeeper, I need say nothing just now.” If it had been possible for that gray face to have turned grayer or paler, it would have done so as Edith uttered these words. Wiggins fixed his solemn eyes on her, and their glance had something in it which was almost awful. After a moment he slowly passed his thin hand over his brow, frowned, and looked away. Then he murmured, in a low voice, as if to himself, “The girl's mad!” Edith heard these words, and for a moment thought Wiggins himself must be mad; but his calmness and cold constraint looked too much like sober sense. She herself had her own dark and gloomy feelings, and these glowed in her heart with a fervid fire--too fervid, indeed, to admit of utterance. She too had to put upon herself a constraint to keep back the words, glowing with hot wrath and fervid indignation, which she could have flung upon her father's betrayer. But because words were weak, and because such deeds as his had to be repaid by act and in kind, she forbore. “It is necessary,” said Wiggins at length, “to live here in seclusion for a time. You will gradually become accustomed to it, and it will be all for the best. It may not be for so very long, after all--perhaps not more than one year. Perhaps you may eventually be admitted to--to our purposes.”