and did not pardon the weeping creature in her heart.

"Now that you're here, Rosa," said Dr Marjoribanks, "the only sensible
thing you can do is to dry your eyes and answer the questions that
have to be put to you. Nobody will harm you if you speak the truth.
Don't be frightened, but dry your eyes, and let us hear what you have
to say."

"Poor little thing," said old Mr Western; "of course she has done very
wrong. I don't mean to defend her--but, after all, she is but a child.
Poor little thing! Her mother died, you know, when she was a baby. She
had nobody to tell her how to behave.--I don't mean to defend her, for
she has done very wrong, poor little--"

"We are falling into mere conversation," said the Rector, severely.
"Rosa Elsworthy, come to the table. The only thing you can do to make
up for all the misery you have caused to your friends, is to tell the
truth about everything. You are aged--how much? eighteen years?"

"Please, sir, only seventeen," said Rosa; "and oh, please, sir, I
didn't mean no harm. I wouldn't never have gone, no, not a step, if he
hadn't a-promised that we was to be married. Oh, please, sir--"

"Softly a little," said John Brown, interfering. "It is not you who
are on your trial, Rosa. We are not going to question you about your
foolishness; all that the Rector wants you to tell him is the name of
the man who persuaded you to go away."

At which question Rosa cried more and more. "I don't think he meant no
harm either," cried the poor little girl. "Oh, if somebody would
please speak to him! We couldn't be married then, but now if anybody
would take a little trouble! I told him Mr Wentworth would, if I was
to ask him; but then I thought perhaps as Mr Wentworth mightn't like
to be the one as married me," said Rosa, with a momentary gleam of
vanity through her tears. The little simper with which the girl spoke,
the coquettish looks askance at the Perpetual Curate, who stood grave
and unmoved at a distance, the movement of unconscious self-deception
and girlish vanity which for a moment distracted Rosa, had a great
effect upon the spectators. The judges looked at each other across the
table, and Dr Marjoribanks made a commentary of meditative nods upon
that little exhibition. "Just so," said the Doctor; "maybe Mr
Wentworth might have objected. If you tell me the man's name, _I_'ll
speak to him, Rosa," said the old Scotsman, grimly. As for the Rector,
he had put down his pen altogether, a