annoyed you, and beg you not to blame Miss Desmond. It was perhaps a
little unconventional, but--"

"Unconventional--to try to ruin--"

Mr. Vernon held up his hand: he was genuinely shocked.

"Forgive me," he said, "but I can't hear such words in connection
with--with a lady for whom I have the deepest respect. You are heated
now, Sir, and I can make every allowance for your natural vexation.
But I must ask you not to overstep the bounds of decency."

The Rector bit his lip, and Vernon went on:

"I have listened to your abuse--yes, your abuse--without defending
myself, but I can't allow anyone, even her father, to say a word
against her."

"I am not her father," said the old man bitterly. And on the instant
Vernon understood him as Betty had never done. The young man's tone
changed instantly.

"Look here," he said, and his face grew almost boyish, "I am really
most awfully sorry. The whole thing--what there is of it, and it's
very little--was entirely my doing. It was inexcusably thoughtless.
Miss Desmond is very young and very innocent. It is I who ought to
have known better,--and perhaps I did. But the country is very dull,
and it was a real pleasure to teach so apt a pupil."

He spoke eagerly, and the ring of truth was in his voice. But the