there had grown up an intimacy between Clara and Mrs. Askerton. There
was an opening from the garden of Belton Cottage into the park, so
that familiar intercourse was easy, and Mrs. Askerton was a woman who
knew well how to make herself pleasant to such another woman as Miss
Amedroz.

The reader may as well know at once that rumours prejudicial to the
Askertons reached Belton before they had been established there
for six months. At Taunton, which was twenty miles distant, these
rumours were very rife, and there were people there who knew with
accuracy,--though, probably without a grain of truth in their
accuracy,--every detail in the history of Mrs. Askerton's life. And
something, too, reached Clara's ears--something from old Mr. Wright,
the rector, who loved scandal, and was very ill-natured. "A very
nice woman," the rector had said; "but she does not seem to have any
belongings in particular." "She has got a husband," Clara had replied
with some little indignation, for she had never loved Mr. Wright.
"Yes; I suppose she has got a husband." Then Clara had, in her own
judgment, accused the rector of lying, evil-speaking, and slandering,
and had increased the measure of her cordiality to Mrs. Askerton. But
something more she had heard on the same subject at Perivale. "Before
you throw yourself into close intimacy with the lady, I think you
should know something about her," Mrs. Winterfield had said to her.
"I do know something about her; I know that she has the manners and
education of a lady, and that she is living affectionately with her
husband, who is devoted to her. What more ought I to know?" "If you
really do know all that, you know a great deal," Mrs. Winterfield had
replied.

"Do you know anything against her, aunt?" Clara asked, after a pause.

There was another pause before Mrs. Winterfield answered. "No
my dear; I cannot say that I do. But I think that young ladies,
before they make intimate friendships, should be very sure of their
friends."

"You have already acknowledged that I know a great deal about her,"
Clara replied. And then the conversation was at an end. Clara had not
been quite ingenuous, as she acknowledged to herself. She was aware
that her aunt would not permit herself to repeat rumours as to the
truth of which she had no absolute knowledge. She understood that the
weakness of her aunt's caution was due to the old lady's sense of
charity and dislike of slander. But Clara had buckled on