"Nay, then, I'll send those to you that can speak."
She did not, however, express herself exactly thus, but ended her long examination of his flushed and agitated countenance by pronouncing almost in a whisper,
"This is very terrible! But I thank Heaven I am not left quite alone in the world!"
Having thus spoken, she rose and retired to her bed-room, leaving her very unhappy son in possession of her "morning parlour," and of more bitter thoughts than had ever before been his portion.
Having continued for some moments exactly in the position in which she left him, he at length started up, and endeavouring to rouse himself from the heavy trance that seemed to have fallen on him, he hastened to find Helen.
"It is all over with me, Helen!" said he. "You know what I met with in the library;—and now my mother protests against my accepting my commission, because she says that officers lead profane lives. What is to become of me, Helen!"
"Have patience, dearest Charles! All this cannot last. It cannot be supposed that we can submit ourselves to the will of Mr. Cartwright: and depend upon it that it is he who has dictated this refusal. Do not look so very miserable, my dear brother! I think you would do very wisely if you returned to Oakley to dinner,—for many reasons."
"Bless you, love, for the suggestion! It will indeed be a relief to me. I know not at this moment which I most desire to avoid—my mother, or Miss Torrington. Have you seen her—Rosalind, I mean?"
"No, Charles,—not since you parted from her. I heard her enter her room and lock the door. The answer you have received from her surprises me more, and vexes me more, than even my mother's."
"Bless you, Helen! you are a true sister and a true friend. I will go to Sir Gilbert;—but it rains hard—I wish I had the cab, or my own dear mare to ride. But that's a minor trouble;—it irks me though, for it comes from the same quarter."