But when Guy came beaming into the room to tell her he had got her the money, a terrible scene occurred.
The bereaved wife uttered a miserable scream at sight of him, and swooned away directly.
The maids gathered round her, laid her down, and cut her stays, and told Guy the terrible tidings, in broken whispers, over her insensible body.
He rose to his feet horrified.

He began to gasp and sob.

And he yearned to say something to comfort her.

At that moment his house, his heart, and all he had, were hers.
But, as soon as she came to herself, and caught sight of him, she screamed out, "Oh, the sight of him! the sight of him!" and swooned away again.
Then the women pushed him out of the room, and he went away with uneven steps, and sick at heart.
He shut himself up in Raby Hall, and felt very sad and remorseful.
He directed his solicitor to render Mrs.Little every assistance, and supply her with funds.

But these good offices were respectfully declined by Mr.Joseph Little, the brother of the deceased, who had come from Birmingham to conduct the funeral and settle other matters.
Mr.Joseph Little was known to be a small master-cutler, who had risen from a workman, and even now put blades and handles together with his own hands, at odd times, though he had long ceased to forge or grind.
Mr.Raby drew in haughtily at this interference.
It soon transpired that Mr.James Little had died hopelessly insolvent, and the L1900 would really have been ingulfed.
Raby waited for this fact to sink into his sister's mind; and then one day nature tugged so at his heart-strings, that he dashed off a warm letter beginning--"My poor Edith, let bygones be bygones," and inviting her and her boy to live with him at Raby Hall.
The heart-broken widow sent back a reply, in a handwriting scarcely recognizable as hers.