ferent; but not so different that my Elinor's
name should be placarded about the streets and put in all the
newspapers. Oh, never, never, John. If the man suffers, it is his fault.
She will suffer, and it is not her fault; but I will not, to release
him, drag my child before the world."

Mrs. Dennistoun was so much excited that she began to pace about the
room, she who was usually so sober and self restrained. She had borne
much, but this she was unable even to contemplate with calm. For once in
her life she had arrived at something which she would not bear. John
felt his own position very strange sitting looking on as a spectator,
while this woman, usually so self-controlled, showed her impatience of
circumstances and fate. It was ruefully comic that this should be, so to
speak, his doing, though he was the last in the world to desire any
exposure of Elinor, or to have any sympathy with those who sought
justice for themselves or revenge on others at such a cost.

"I was rash perhaps to speak as I did," he said; "I had no intention of
doing it when I came. It was a mere impulse, seeing Elinor: but you must
know that I agree with you perfectly. I see that Elinor's lot is fixed
anyhow. I believe that no decree of a court would make any difference to
her, and she would not change the name that is the child's name. All
that I recognise. And one thing more, that neither you nor Elinor has
recognised. They--he is afraid of any proceedings--I suppose I may
mention him to you. It's rather absurd, don't you think, speaking of a
fellow of that sort, or rather, not speaking of him at all, as if his
name was sacred? He is afraid of proceedings--whatever may be the
cause."

"John, can't you understand that she cannot bear to speak of him, a man
she so fought for, against us all? And now her eyes are opened, she is
undeceived, she knows him all through and through, more, far more, than
we do. She opened her mind to me once, and only once. It was not _that_
alone; oh, no, no. There are things that rankle more than that, something
he did before they were married, and made her help him to conceal.
Something dishon--I can't say the word, John."

"Oh," said John, grimly, "you need not mind me."

"Well, the woman--I blush to have to speak to you even of such a
thing--the woman, John, was not the worst. She almost might, I think,
have forgiven that. It was one thing after another, and that, that first
business the worst of all. She fou