"I cannot. It is impossible for me voluntarily to separate myself from Edward—I am too weak, too great a coward."
"And is there no hope of liberation for him?" This question of Lady Lodore forced them back to matter-of-fact topics, and she became composed. Ethel related how ineffectual every endeavour had yet been to arrange his affairs, how large his debts, how inexorable his creditors, how neglectful his attorney.
"And his father?" inquired her mother.
"He seems to me to be kind-hearted," replied Ethel, "and to feel deeply his son's situation; but he has no means—he himself is in want."
"He is keeping a carriage at this moment in Paris," said Lady Lodore, "and giving parties—however, I allow that that is no proof of his having money. Still you must not stay here."
"Nor shall we always," replied Ethel; "something of course will happen to take us away, though as yet it is all hopeless enough."
"Aunt Bessy, Mrs. Elizabeth Fitzhenry, might give you assistance. Have you asked her?—has she refused?"
"Edward has exacted a promise from me not to reveal our perplexities to her—he is punctilious about money obligations, and I have given my word not to hurt his delicacy on that point."
"Then that, perhaps, is the reason why you refused my request to go home with me?" said Lady Lodore reproachfully.
"No," replied Ethel, "I do not think that he is so scrupulous as to prevent a mother from serving her child, but he shall answer for himself; I expect him back from his walk every minute."