Augusta saw the motion, and Mary saw that Augusta had seen it.
From my tedious way of telling it, the reader will be led to imagine that the hand-squeezing had been protracted to a duration quite incompatible with any objection to such an arrangement on the part of the lady; but the fault is mine: in no part hers.

Were I possessed of a quick spasmodic style of narrative, I should have been able to include it all--Frank's misbehaviour, Mary's immediate anger, Augusta's arrival, and keen, Argus-eyed inspection, and then Mary's subsequent misery--in five words and half a dozen dashes and inverted commas.

The thing should have been so told; for, to do Mary justice, she did not leave her hand in Frank's a moment longer than she could help herself.
Frank, feeling the hand withdrawn, and hearing, when it was too late, the step on the gravel, turned sharply round.

"Oh, it's you, is it, Augusta?
Well, what do you want ?" Augusta was not naturally very ill-natured, seeing that in her veins the high de Courcy blood was somewhat tempered by an admixture of the Gresham attributes; nor was she predisposed to make her brother her enemy by publishing to the world any of his little tender peccadilloes; but she could not but bethink herself of what her aunt had been saying as to the danger of any such encounters as that she just now had beheld; she could not but start at seeing her brother thus, on the very brink of the precipice of which the countess had specially forewarned her mother.

She, Augusta, was, as she well knew, doing her duty by her family by marrying a tailor's son for whom she did not care a chip, seeing the tailor's son was possessed of untold wealth.