Lady Marchmont found her companions in no mood for discourse. Her husband was asleep, and Ethel's languid voice was scarcely audible when she forced a reply to some trilling question; and Henrietta could perceive, from the convulsive movement, and from the short suppressed sob, that she was weeping. When they arrived at home, the light showed Ethel so pale, so worn out, that she thought all attempt at any intercession were best deferred to the morrow. It must, also, be confessed, that she felt too weary for much eloquence as a pleader.