ll satisfied with himself. He understood, so he believed,
the motives which had induced Meldon to make his life in Ballymoy
uncomfortable. He was sure that Miss King was able to manage her own
affairs, and he was not anxious to make objections to her marrying
Major Kent, or any other tolerably respectable man whom she happened to
like. He knew, too, that Lady Hawkesby would be pleased to have her
niece settled in life in any way which would put a stop to the growing
notoriety of the novels she wrote.

CHAPTER XXI.

At breakfast the next morning Major Kent spoke to Meldon in a gentle,
rather hopeless tone. It was as if he had no great expectation of his
words producing any effect.

"I suppose," he said, "that nothing I can say will prevent your
thrusting yourself into the company of this judge to-day."

"If you refer," said Meldon, "to my intention of calling civilly on Sir
Gilbert Hawkesby, nothing you say will alter my view that it is a very
proper thing to do, considering that the man is a stranger in the
locality."

"Then I beg of you, J. J., to be careful. Don't say anything insulting
about Miss King. Remember that she's his niece, and he won't like to
hear her abused. Besides, he'll tell her what you say afterwards, and
it would be very painful to her to hear the sort of accusations you've
been bringing against her since she came to Ballymoy."

"Major," said Meldon, "we've been intimate friends for years, and you
ought to know that, whatever else I may be, I'm always a gentleman. Is
it likely I'd go out of my way to insult a helpless woman?"

"You wouldn't mean to, J. J., but you might do it. Your ideas of what
is insulting are so peculiar. Believing the sort of things you do
believe about her, you might say something very offensive without
meaning any harm. Do be careful."

"I shall not allude to her past, if that's what you are thinking of. I
never have alluded to her past to any one but you, except on the one
occasion on which she brought up the subject herself. Nothing could
possibly be in worse taste than to fling that story in the judge's
face."

"I wish," said the Major, "that I could persuade you not to be quite so
cock-sure about what you call her past. You ought to try and realise
that you may possibly be mistaken."

"That," said Meldon, "is practically what Oliver Cromwell said to the
Scotch Presbyterian ministers. It may have been a sound remark from
his point of view,