raining from saying who had done
all the mischief. Mrs. Carleton was in no need of hearing it. "Ah!"
she said, "it was right, quite right. It was very wrong of my poor
boy. Indeed I am not excusing him, but if you only knew how he blames
himself."

"I am sure he ought," Rachel could not help saying. Mrs. Carleton here
entreated her to listen, and seized her hand, so that there was no
escape. The tale was broken and confused, but there could be little
doubt of its correctness. Poor Bessie had been the bane of young
Carleton's life. She had never either decidedly accepted or repelled his
affection, but, as she had truly said, let him follow her like a little
dog, and amused herself with him in the absence of better game. He was
in his father's office, but her charms disturbed his application to
business and kept him trifling among the croquet lawns of Littleworthy,
whence his mother never had the resolution to banish her spoilt child.
At last Miss Keith's refusal of him softened by a half-implied hope,
sent him forth to his uncle at Rio, on the promise that if he did his
utmost there, he should in three years be enabled to offer Miss Keith
more than a competence. With this hope he had for the first time applied
himself to business in earnest, when he received the tidings of her
marriage, and like a true spoilt child broke down at once in resolution,
capacity, and health, so that his uncle was only too glad to ship him
off for England. And when Lady Keith made her temporary home in her old
neighbourhood, the companionship began again, permitted by her in good
nature, and almost contempt, and allowed by his family in confidence
of the rectitude of both parties; and indeed nothing could be more true
than that no harm had been intended. But it was perilous ground; ladies,
however highly principled, cannot leave off self-pleasing habits all at
once, and the old terms returned sufficiently to render the barrier but
slightly felt. When Lady Keith had spoken of her intention of leaving
Timber End, the reply had been the old complaint of her brother's
harshness and jealousy of his ardent and lasting affection, and reproof
had not at once silenced him. This it was that had so startled her as to
make her hurry to her brother's side, unheeding of her steps.

As far as Rachel could make out, the poor young man's grief and despair
had been poured out to his mother, and she, unable to soothe, had
come to try to extract some assurance t