erferes with his higher work, instead
of sitting here day after day reading yellow-backed novels in a
drawing-room."

And then, in a white heat of indignation, Mr. Maurice Kenyon took his
leave. But he did not know the consternation that he had created in
Lesley's mind. She was positively frightened by his vehemence. But she
had never seen an angry man before--never been spoken to in strong
masculine tones of reprobation and disgust, such as it seemed to her
that Maurice Kenyon had used. And for what? She did not know. She was
not aware that she had behaved in an unfilial manner to her father. She
did not realize that her cold demeanor, her puzzled and bewildered
looks, had told Mr. Kenyon far more than she would have cared to confess
about the state of her feelings. For the rest, Ethel's words and
Maurice's vivid imagination were to blame. And, angry as Lesley was, she
felt with a thrill of dismay that Mr. Kenyon's discourteous words were
perfectly true. She did not appreciate her father; she did not know
anything about him. All that she had hitherto surmised was bad. And here
came a young man, apparently sane, certainly handsome and clever,
although disagreeable--to tell her that Caspar Brooke was a hero, a man
among ten thousand, an intellectual giant, an uncrowned king. It was too
ridiculous; and Lesley laughed aloud--although as she laughed she found
that her eyes were wet with tears.

CHAPTER XII.

"THE UNEXPLORED."

Lesley retained for some time a feeling of distinct anger against
Maurice Kenyon, even while she came to acknowledge the truth of divers
of his words. But their truth, she told herself indignantly, was no
justification of his brutality. He was horribly rude and meddlesome and
intrusive. What business was it of his whether she gave her father or
not the meed of praise that he deserved? Why should she be lectured for
it by a stranger? Maurice Kenyon's conduct--Maurice Kenyon himself--was
intolerable, and she should hate him all the days of her life.

And in good sooth, Maurice's behavior is somewhat hard to excuse. He
certainly had no business at all to attack Lesley on the subject of her
feelings about her father, and his mode of attack was almost ludicrously
wanting in judgment and discrimination. But that which tact and judgment
might perhaps have failed to effect, Maurice's sledge-hammer blows
brought home to Lesley's understanding. He was to blame; but he did some
good, nevertheless.