If you have anything further to say about
him, except what you have gathered from
the low gossip of servants, perhaps you will
be good enough to say it to his face."

The two young men looked at each other
fixedly for a moment. John would not
have been human had not a pang of bitter
jealousy shot across his heart as his eye
fell upon the carelessly graceful lines of
Lowndes's figure. He leaned against the
mantelpiece, his hands in his pockets, his
legs crossed. John sighed. It was but an
instant. He recovered himself; and without
betraying surprise at the announcement,
said, calmly:

"No! I have nothing to add, except this,
that Miss Pomeroy left Beckworth, at last,
by Mrs. Cartaret's desire. I had urged
her returning here; but in vain. When
Mrs. Cartaret insisted upon her leaving,
therefore, I induced her to accept my
aunt's protection until some plan for her
future can be decided on."

"And, on your oath, as a clergyman,"
said Sir Andrew, in his most magisterial
voice, "have you no hope that such a
'plan for the future' may be her acceptance
of beggary and a curate's cottage, eh?
On your oath, sir, have you or have you
not tried to persuade Miss Pomeroy to
marry you?"

His unfortunate trick of colouring up to
the roots of his hair was never more
distressing to John than at that moment.
After an instant's hesitation he said:

"Most men would decline to answer
your question, Sir Andrew; but I shall not
do so. Yes, I have asked Miss Pomeroy to
be my wife; and, in spite of discouragement,
the dearest hope of my life still is,
that she may one day consent to be mine.
I have done nothing underhand. Although
I have loved her for years, I should never
have dreamt of speaking to her, but for her
leaving home as she did. That altered the
case. I spoke to her for the first time last
night, after she told me she was resolutely
determined not to return here. I do not
think myself called upon to repeat what
passed. I have told you straightforwardly
what my hopes are, that you may not
accuse me of deception. She has a home
with my aunt for as long as she likes to
remain there."

"Your candour is really refreshing, Mr.
Miles. Well, at least now, we know what
we are about, and whom we have got to deal
with!" Sir Andrew's rage was at white
heat. He no longer flung his words about
wildly, but spoke with a concentrated
essence of venom. "I am glad you have
made this last admission, sir. It is the
only word of truth you have spoken for the
last quarter of an hour, I believe. I have no
doubt that, under cover of your cloth, you
have got an influence over this girl, until
she has consented to complete her disgrace
by marrying you. Now look here: you
think this will be a very fine thing for you,
I suppose; that, when the thing is done, I
shall relent, and make a provision for any
brats you may have: you will find yourself
utterly mistaken. Miss Pomeroy has no
claims of any sort upon me. If she chooses
to marry you, or the groom, she may. She
shall never have one farthing of my money,
if I can help it."

"I am very sure she would not accept
it," said John, at last warming. "I shall
not stoop to deny anything you please to
say, Sir Andrew. It is useless to argue
with a man in your condition of mind, and
who forgets himself, as a gentleman, so far
as to use the language you do. There is
Miss Pomeroy's address" (he laid a paper
on the table). "She desired me to beg
that you would not go to her, as she was
resolved not to return here; but about that
you will act as you think fit. Good evening,
Lady Herriesson."

And without waiting for another word
from Sir Andrew, he strode to the door,
passed through the vast dimly-lit hall, and
out, down a flight of steps, into the
darkness. Poor John Miles! He was but
meeting with that reward which so often
attends the purest and noblest actions in
life—misconstruction and ingratitude on
all sides.

What happened at Mortlands, after
John had left, was this. Lady Herriesson,
after feebly moaning that she always
thought so, that she never had had a good
opinion of Mr. Miles since that sermon of
his about the Prodigal Son, which Maud
admired, and which she thought so shocking
and subversive; Lady Herriesson
roused herself to the exigence of things
present, and ordered supper for her guests.
Sir Andrew said of course Mr. Cartaret
would not think of leaving Mortlands that
night? and the common act of hospitality
was gladly accepted. Lowndes had every
desire to ingratiate himself with his hosts;
and when he so willed it, no one could be
more agreeable. The groom of the chambers
showed him his room, that he might wash
his hands; but apparently, Mr. Forbes was
not as particular about his (has not the
law always clean hands?); or else it was