“So far as I can make out, it was thought to be impossible that there should be any children; but that I cannot explain. It is so,” said Edgar, insisting pathetically. “Believe me, it is so.”
“And how did you find it out?”
Lady Augusta’s tones were very low and awe-stricken; but her interrogatory was close and persistent. Edgar was depressed after his excitement. He thought he had calculated vainly on her sympathy. “Clare found the letters,” he said, “in my father’s—I mean in Mr. Arden’s room. They are too clear to admit of any doubt.”
“She found them! What does she think of it? It will not be any the better for her; and you such a good, kind brother to her!” cried Lady Augusta in a tone of indignation. She was glad to find some one to find fault with. And then she made a long pause. Edgar did not move. He sat quite still opposite, looking at her, wondering would she send him away without a word of sympathy? She looked up suddenly as he was thinking so, and met his wistful eyes. Then Lady Augusta, without a moment’s warning, burst out sobbing, “Oh, my poor dear boy! my poor dear boy!”
Edgar was at the furthest limit of self-control. He could not bear any more. He came and knelt down before her, and took her hand, and kissed it. It was all he could do to keep from weeping too. “Thanks, thanks,” he said, with a trembling voice; and Lady Augusta, kind woman, put her arm round him, and wept over him. “If I had been Clare I would have burned them, and you should never have known—you should never have known,” she cried. “Oh, my poor, poor boy!”
“I am very poor now,” he said. “I thought you would be my mother—I who never had one. And Gussy—you will tell her; and you will not blame me——”
“Blame you!” cried Lady Augusta. “My heart bleeds for you; but I blame Clare. I would have burned them, and never thought it wrong.”
“But it would have been wrong,” he said softly, rising. “Clare would burn them now if I would let her. She is not to blame. Dear Lady Augusta, good-bye. And you will say to Gussy——”
He paused; and so did she, struggling with herself. Should she let him see Gussy? Should she allow him to say good-bye? But Gussy was only a girl, and who can tell what mad thing a girl may propose to do? “Pardon me! pardon me!” she said; “but it is best you should not see Gussy now.”
“Yes,” said Edgar; “it is best.” But it was the first real sign that one life was over for him, and another begun.