"My own folly,--my own rash folly," almost groaned Mr. Fielden. "For not
guessing that Mr. Mainwaring could have got engaged meanwhile to
Lucretia, and suspecting how it was with Susan's poor little heart, I let
out, in a jest--Heaven forgive me!--what William had said; and the dear
child blushed, and kissed me, and--why, a day or two after, when it was
fixed that we should come up to London, Lucretia informed me, with her
freezing politeness, that she was to marry Mainwaring herself as soon as
her first mourning was over."

"Poor, dear, dear Susan!"

"Susan behaved like an angel; and when I broached it to her, I thought
she was calm; and I am sure she prayed with her whole heart that both
might be happy."

"I'm sure she did. What is to be done? I understand it all now. Dear
me, dear me! a sad piece of work indeed." And Mrs. Fielden abstractedly
picked up the scissors.

"It was not till our coming to town, and Mr. Mainwaring's visits to
Lucretia, that her strength gave way."

"A hard sight to bear,--I never could have borne it, my love. If I had
seen you paying court to another, I should have--I don't know what I
should have done! But what an artful wretch this young Mainwaring must
be."

"Not very artful; for you see that he looks even sadder than Susan. He
got entangled somehow, to be sure. Perhaps he had given up Susan in
despair; and Miss Clavering, if haughty, is no doubt a very superior