"My mother!—Oh no! Her steady principles and quiet good sense would render such a falling off as that quite impossible."
"Very well! I am willing to hope so. And yet, Charles, I cannot for the life of me help thinking that she must have had some other adviser than her own heart when she left my good Sir Gilbert's letter without an answer."
"Of what letter do you speak, Lady Harrington?" said young Mowbray, colouring;—"of that whereby he refused to execute the trust my father bequeathed him?"
"No, Charles! Of that whereby he rescinded his refusal."
"Has such a letter been sent?" inquired Mowbray eagerly. "I never heard of it."
"Indeed! Then we must presume that Mrs. Mowbray did not think it worth mentioning. Such a letter has, however, been sent, Mr. Mowbray; and I confess, I hoped, on seeing you arrive, that you were come to give it an amicable, though somewhat tardy answer, in person."
"I am greatly surprised," replied Charles, "to hear that such a letter has been received by my mother, because I had been led to believe that Sir Gilbert had declared himself immoveable on the subject; but still more am I surprised that I should not have heard of it. Could Helen know it, and not tell me? It must have been to her a source of the greatest happiness, as the one which preceded had been of the deepest mortification and sorrow."
"Your sister, then, saw the first letter?"
"She did, Lady Harrington, and wrote me word of it, with expressions of the most sincere regret."
"But of the second she said nothing? That is not like Helen."