at a moment's notice, for
that which--with but trifling, almost unconscious, manipulation of
fact--could be made to appear as nothing worse than a venial error of
judgment, did really sound and seem most unduly drastic punishment.

Miss Verity's first instinct was to fling herself into the breech; and,
directly her brother emerged from his room, demand for her _protegee_
redress and reinstatement. Her second instinct was--she didn't, in truth,
quite know what--for she grew sadly perplexed as she listened.

Her sympathy, in fact, split into three inconveniently distinct and
separate streams. Of these Theresa's woes still claimed the widest and
deepest, since with Theresa she was in immediate and intimate contact.
Yet the other two began to show a quite respectable volume and current,
as she pictured Damaris marooned on the Bar and Sir Charles ravished away
from the seasonable obligation of partridge shooting to take his place at
his daughter's bedside.

"But this young Captain Faircloth, of whom you speak," she presently
said, her mind taking one of its many inconsequent skippits--"who so
providentially came to the dearest child's assistance--could he, I
wonder, be the same really very interesting-looking young man I met in
the drive, just now, when I came here?"

And Miss Verity described him, while a pretty stain of colour illuminated
her cheek once more.

"You think quite possibly yes?--How I wish I had known that at the time.
I would certainly have stopped and expressed my gratitude to him. Such a
mercy he was at hand!--Poor dearest Damaris! I hope his good offices
have already been acknowledged. Do you know if my brother has seen and
thanked him?"

The expression of Theresa's round little face, still puffy and blotched
from her last night's weeping, held a world of reproachful remindings.

"Ah! no," the other cried conscience-stricken--"no, of course not. How
thoughtless of me to ask you. And"--another mental skippit--"and that you
should be forbidden the sick-room too, not permitted to nurse Damaris! My
poor friend, indeed I do feel for you. I so well understand that must
have caused you more pain than anything."

A remark her hearer found it not altogether easy to counter with
advantage to her own cause, so wisely let it pass in silence.

"I know--I know, you can hardly trust yourself to speak of it. I am so
grieved--so very grieved. But one must be practical. I think you are wise
to yield without furthe