tt rambled through her disastrous recital, declared that for
her own part, she had already accepted the horror of it and was prepared
to face the worst that could happen, and went so far as to predict what
Ernest himself would probably do, now that the scandal had reached his
ears. She was distraught and for the moment appeared almost to revel in
the accumulated horrors of the situation.

She told the story of promise and betrayal and summed up with one
agonised prophecy.

"And now you'll cast her out--you'll turn upon us and throw us out--I
know you will."

"'Cast her out'? Good God of Mercy! Who am I to cast anybody out, Missis
Dinnett? Shall an elderly and faulty fellow creature rise in judgment at
the weakness of youth? What have I done in the past to lead you to any
such conclusion? I feel very certain, indeed, that you are permitting
yourself a debauch of misery--wallowing in it, Mary Dinnett--as
misguided wretches often wallow in drink out of an unmanly despair at
their own human weakness. Fortify yourself! Approach the question on a
higher plane. Remember no sparrow falls to the ground without the
cognisance of its Creator! As for Sabina, I love her and have devoted
many hours to her education. I also love Raymond Ironsyde--for his own
sake as well as his family's. I am perfectly certain that you exaggerate
the facts. Such a thing is quite incredible. Shall I quarrel with a
gracious flower because a wandering bee has set a seed? He may be an
inconsiderate and greedy bee--but--"

Mr. Churchouse broke off, conscious that his simile would land him in
difficulties.

"No," he said, "we must not pursue this subject on a pagan or poetical
basis. We are dealing with two young Christians, Missis Dinnett--a man
and a woman of good nurture and high principle. I will never
believe--not if he said it himself--that Raymond Ironsyde would commit
any such unheard-of outrage. You say that he has promised to marry her.
That is enough for me. The son of Henry Ironsyde will keep his promise.
Be sure of that. For the moment leave the rest in my hands. Exercise
discretion, and pray, pray keep silence about it. I do trust that nobody
has heard anything. Publicity might complicate the situation seriously."

As a matter of fact Mrs. Dinnett had told everything to her bosom
friend--a woman who dwelt in a cottage one hundred yards from 'The
Magnolias.' She did not mention this, however.

"If you say there's hope, I'll try to belie