s way home.

When Lady Ashton arrived, shortly afterwards, and heard what had taken
place, she was in a terrible fume. "Oh! my dear, what a misfortune. How
unlucky for her to come here: why did you let her stay, Charles?"

"Why did I let her stay? Say, rather, why did you send her away?"

"Yes, why did you let her stay?" she repeated, angrily. "Why did you not
let her go to the hospital?"

"Or die in the street," added Charles, scarcely able to keep his temper,
for he was angry and hurt to think how Louisa had been treated.

"Goodness knows what people will say: no doubt all kinds of strange
stories will be circulated. I feel for you, Ada, my dear; I do, indeed."

"Don't be alarmed, my dear mother, as to rumors and strange stories,"
said Charles, handing her a newspaper, and pointing out the following:

DIED.--At the residence of Charles Ashton, Esq. LOUISA, wife of
the late Hon. Arthur Barrington, and grand-daughter of Sir Edward
Ashton of Brierley.

"Charles, how dared you?" cried his mother, reddening with anger, "your
father will be excessively angry."

"I cannot help that: it is the truth, is it not?"

"True? of course you know it is; but, for all that, you need not have
published it in that absurd manner."

"I thought it best."

"And you are simple enough to think that that notice will prevent absurd
stories getting abroad."

"As to who she might be, yes; and, as to the circumstances that brought
her here, I presume you would prefer any, rather than the right ones,
should be assigned."

Lady Ashton was for once abashed, and her eye dropped beneath the
severity of her son's gaze; but, recovering quickly, she answered, "you,
at least, have nothing to do with that."

"I am thankful to say I have not," he returned, "I cannot forget it, it
makes me perfectly wretched; and, but that I know that Ada has her own
home to go to, if anything happened to me I don't know what I should do.
I shall insure my life this very day, that she may be independent. If a
daughter's child could be so treated, why not a son's wife."

For goodness' sake stop, Charles!" cried his mother, "don't talk so
dreadfully."

"I feel it bitterly, mother; indeed I do," he replied, and hastily left
the room. He would not have done so, however, had he known the storm he
had left Ada to be the unhappy recipient of. She was perfectly terrified
at the violence of Lady Ashton's wrath, and Lady Ashton was, too, when
she saw Ada