"Yes, yes, but you are a girl, and he did not like to blame you. He
spoke rather strongly about Oliver Trent to me. However, it is no use
saying so now. We had better keep that phase of the matter as quiet as
we can."

"Aunt Sophy," said Lesley, in a tremulous tone, "you don't mean--you
don't think--that my--my _flirting_, as you call it, with Mr. Trent will
be spoken of and tend to hurt my father--my father's good name?"

Aunt Sophy stared at her. "Of course it would hurt your father's chances
if it _were_ talked about," she said, rather, sharply. "I don't see how
it could do otherwise. People would say that he might have quarrelled
with Oliver about you, you know. But we must try to keep the matter as
quiet as we can. _I'm_ prepared to swear that they were bosom-friends,
and that I never heard Caspar say a word against him; and you had better
follow my example."

"But, Aunt Sophy--if I can't----"

"If you want to come the Jeanie Deans' business, my dear," said Miss
Brooke, "you had better reflect that personal application to the Queen
for a pardon will not help you very much now-a-days. I must confess
that, although I admire Jeanie Deans very much, I don't intend to
emulate her. It's my opinion too that most women will tell lies for the
sake of men they love, but not for the sake of women."

"Oh, Aunt Sophy!"

"It is no good making exclamations," said Aunt Sophy, with unusual
irritability. "If you are different from all other women, I can't help
it. I once thought that I was different myself, but I find I am as great
a fool as any of them. There, go to bed, child! Things will turn out all
right by and by. Nobody could be so absurd as to believe ill of your
father."

"You think it will be all right?" said Lesley, wistfully.

"Don't ask me to believe in a God in heaven, if things go badly with
Caspar," said Miss Brooke, curtly. "Haven't I lived ten years in the
house with the man, and don't I know that he would not hurt a fly? He's
the gentlest soul alive, although he looks so big and strong: the
gentlest, softest-hearted, most generous----But I suppose it is no good
saying all that to your mother's daughter?"--and Miss Brooke picked up a
paper-covered volume that had fallen to her feet, and began to read.

"I am my father's daughter too," said Lesley, with rather tremulous
dignity, as she turned away. She was too indignant with Miss Brooke to
wish her good-night, and meant to leave the room without another w