“About Harry!—how do you know?—have you heard anything?”
“Harry has told his mother,” said Edgar; “they are all in despair.”
“Oh! I knew it!” cried Lady Mary. “I told Tom so, and he would not believe me. What, has it come so far as that, that he has spoken to his mother? Then, innocent as she looks, she must be a designing creature, after all.”
“He may not have spoken to her, though he has spoken to his mother,” said Edgar. Was it the spell of kindred blood working in him? for he did not like this to be said of Margaret, and instinctively attempted to defend her.
Lady Mary shook her head.
“Do you think any man would be such a fool as to speak to his parents before he had spoken to the woman?” she said. “One never knows how such a boy as Harry may act, but I should not have thought that likely. However, you have not answered my question. Do you think you have any influence, being her cousin, over her?”
“I do not know her,” said Edgar. “I have only spoken to her once.”
Would this be sufficient defence for him? he wondered, or must he hear himself again appealed to, to interfere in another case so like his own?
“That is very unfortunate,” said Lady Mary, with a sigh; but, happily for him, she there left the subject. “I cannot say that she has ever given him any encouragement,” she said presently, in a subdued tone. Margaret had gained her point; she was acquitted of this sin, at least; but Lady Mary pronounced the acquittal somewhat grudgingly. Perhaps, when a young man is intent upon making a foolish marriage, it is the best comfort to his parents and friends to be able to feel that she is artful and designing, and has led the poor boy away.