had no reason to suspect
anything. It is the innocent, I would remind you, who blush and look
guilty. Mr. Derwent is a barrister--a friend of the vicar and of the
squire--and he amuses himself by calling here when he is in the
village--that is all. And if you are going to be as silly as Mother
Hubbard it is too bad of you."

I felt this was frightfully weak and unconvincing, as the truth so
often is.

"U-m!" said Rose, spreading the ejaculation over ten seconds; "I see.
Then there's nothing more to be said about it. He isn't a bad sort, is
he? Why in the world you never mentioned him in your letters I cannot
conceive."

It was too bad of Rose.

CHAPTER XVI

THE CYNIC SPEAKS IN PARABLES

"What makes you call me the Cynic?" he inquired.

It was Rose's fault; she is really incorrigible, and absolutely
heedless of consequences! If I had dreamed that she would have done
such a thing I would never have told her, but that is the worst of
blanket confidences. I call them "blanket" confidences because it was
after we had gone to bed, when it was quite dark and Rose was inclined
to be reasonable, that I had explained to her calmly and quite
seriously that I had not mentioned the Cynic in my letters because
there had been no reason to do so; and Rose had accepted the
explanation, like a good girl, and kissed me to show her penitence.
Then I told her of the nickname I had given him, which she thought very
appropriate. But I would have held my tongue between my teeth if I had
contemplated the possibility of her revealing the secret; and here she
had blurted it out with a laugh, to my utter and dire confusion.

We had had a glorious day, and I must admit that the Cynic had added
not a little to our enjoyment. He said he would have felt like a fool
to be walking out in black West of Englands, so he had called at the
Hall and got the butler to find up an old shooting jacket of the
squire's, which was much too large for him, but in which he appeared
quite unconcernedly a full ten minutes before the time appointed.

"It isn't a good fit," he remarked with a laugh, "but the other toggery
was impossible for the moors."

Under his guidance we had gone farther than we should otherwise have
ventured, and he had pointed out a hundred beauties and wonders our
untrained eyes would never have seen. He had interpreted the varying
cries of the curlew, and shown us how intently the gamekeeper listened
to them, so that h