tress, whether
she would condescend to love him or no,--that one was his cousin Hetta.
And now he had been told by his guest that he had been so rough to her
that she and her daughter must return to London!

And he could not acquit himself. He knew that he had been rough. He had
said very hard words. It was true that he could not have expressed his
meaning without hard words, nor have repressed his meaning without
self-reproach. But in his present mood he could not comfort himself by
justifying himself. She had told him that he ought to have remembered
that Felix was her son; and as she spoke she had acted well the part
of an outraged mother. His heart was so soft that though he knew the
woman to be false and the son to be worthless, he utterly condemned
himself. Look where he would there was no comfort. When he had sat
half an hour upon the bridge he turned towards the house to dress for
dinner,--and to prepare himself for an apology, if any apology might be
accepted. At the door, standing in the doorway as though waiting for
him, he met his cousin Hetta. She had on her bosom the rose he had
placed in her room, and as he approached her he thought that there was
more in her eyes of graciousness towards him than he had ever seen
there before.

'Mr Carbury,' she said, 'mamma is so unhappy!'

'I fear that I have offended her.'

'It is not that, but that you should be so--so angry about Felix.'

'I am vexed with myself that I have vexed her,--more vexed than I can
tell you.'

'She knows how good you are.'

'No, I'm not. I was very bad just now. She was so offended with me
that she talked of going back to London.' He paused for her to speak,
but Hetta had no words ready for the moment. 'I should be wretched
indeed if you and she were to leave my house in anger.'

'I do not think she will do that.'

'And you?'

'I am not angry. I should never dare to be angry with you. I only wish
that Felix would be better. They say that young men have to be bad,
and that they do get to be better as they grow older. He is something
in the city now, a director they call him, and mamma thinks that the
work will be of service to him.' Roger could express no hope in this
direction or even look as though he approved of the directorship. 'I
don't see why he should not try at any rate.'

'Dear Hetta, I only wish he were like you.'

'Girls are so different, you know.'

It was not till late in the evening, long after dinner, that he