“But what is it?” asked the General. “I found Mrs Gaunt almost crying when I went in. What she said was, ‘Charles, we have been nourishing a viper in our bosoms.’ I am not addicted to metaphor, and I insisted upon plain English; and then it all came out. She told me Waring was an impostor, and had been taking us all in; that some old friend of his had been here, and had told you. Is that true?” “My dear!” said Mr Durant in a tone of remonstrance. “Well, Henry! you never said it was to be kept a secret. It could not possibly be kept a secret--so few of us here, and all so intimate.” “Then he is an impostor?” said General Gaunt. “Oh, my dear General, that’s too strong a word. Henry, you had better tell the General, your own way.” The old clergyman had been shaking his head all the time. He was dying to tell all that he knew, yet he could not but improve the occasion. “Oh, ladies, ladies!” he said, “when there is anything to be told, the best of women is not to be trusted. But, General, our poor friend is no impostor. He never said he was a widower.” “It’s fortunate we’ve none of us girls----” the General began; then with a start, “I forgot Miss Tasie; but she’s a girl--a girl in ten thousand,” he added, with a happy inspiration. Tasie, who was still seated behind the teacups, give him a smile in reply. “Poor dear Mr Waring,” she said, “whether he is a widower or has a wife, it does not matter much. Nobody can call Mr Waring a flirt. He might be any one’s grandfather from his manner. I cannot see that it matters a bit.” “Not so far as we are concerned, thank heaven!” said her mother, with the air of one whose dear child has escaped a danger. “But I don’t think it is quite respectable for one of our small community to have a wife alive and never to let any one know.” “I understand, a most excellent woman; besides being a person of rank,” said Mr Durant. “It has disturbed me very much--though, happily, as my wife says, from no private motive.” Here the good man paused, and gave vent to a sigh of thankfulness, establishing the impression that his ingenuous Tasie had escaped as by a miracle from Waring’s wiles; and then he continued, “I think some one should speak to him on the subject. He ought to understand that now it is known, public opinion requires---- Some one should tell him----” “There is no one so fit as a clergyman,” the General said. “That is true, perhaps, in the abstract; but with our poor friend---- There are some men who will not take advice from a clergyman.” “O Henry! do him justice. He has never shown anything but respect to you.” “I should say that a man of the world, like the General----” “Oh, not I,” cried the General, getting up hurriedly. “No, thank you; I never interfere with any man’s affairs. That’s your business, Padre. Besides, I have no daughter: whether he is married or not is nothing to me.”