who taught me. It was not Mr. Potts' fault.'

Even the name could not spoil the spirited sound of the speech, and
Mrs. Edmonstone was full of sympathy. 'You must remember,' she said,
'that in the eyes of a man brought up at public school, nothing
compensates for the want of the regular classical education. I have no
doubt it was very provoking.'

'I don't want to be excused, thank you,' said Guy. 'Oh I am grieved;
for I thought the worst of my temper had been subdued. After all that
has passed--all I felt--I thought it impossible. Is there no hope for-
-' He covered his face with his hands, then recovering and turning to
Mrs. Edmonstone, he said, 'It is encroaching too much on your kindness
to come here and trouble you with my confessions.'

'No, no, indeed,' said she, earnestly. 'Remember how we agreed that
you should come to me like one of my own children. And, indeed, I do
not see why you need grieve in this despairing way, for you almost
overcame the fit of anger; and perhaps you were off your guard because
the trial came in an unexpected way?'

'It did, it did,' he said, eagerly; 'I don't, mind being told point
blank that I am a dunce, but that Mr. Potts--nay, by implication--my
grandfather should be set at nought in that cool-- But here I am
again!' said he, checking himself in the midst of his vehemence; 'he
did not mean that, of course. I have no one to blame but myself.'

'I am sure,' said Mrs, Edmonstone, 'that if you always treat your
failings in this way, you must subdue them at last.'