“Sir!” said Sir William, with a look of scorn in his face which gave me the lie in my teeth as plainly as any words could do. And then he entered the room. The Pole was standing in one corner, apparently amazed at what was going on, and Smith,—I may as well call her Miss Weston at once, for the baronet’s statement was true,—was sitting on a sort of divan in the corner of the chamber hiding her face in her hands. She had made no attempt at an escape, and a full explanation was therefore indispensable. For myself I own that I felt ashamed of my part in the play,—ashamed even of my own innocency. Had I been less innocent I should certainly have contrived to appear much less guilty. Had it occurred to me on the banks of the Jordan that Smith was a lady, I should not have travelled with her in her gentleman’s habiliments from Jerusalem to Jaffa. Had she consented to remain under my protection, she must have done so without a masquerade. The uncle stood still and looked at his niece. He probably understood how thoroughly stern and disagreeable was his own face, and considered that he could punish the crime of his relative in no severer way than by looking at her. In this I think he was right. But at last there was a necessity for speaking. “Unfortunate young woman!” he said, and then paused. “We had better get rid of the landlord,” I said, “before we come to any explanation.” And I motioned to the man to leave the room. This he did very unwillingly, but at last he was gone. “I fear that it is needless to care on her account who may hear the story of her shame,” said Sir William. I looked at Miss Weston, but she still sat hiding her face. However, if she did not defend herself, it was necessary that I should defend both her and me. “I do not know how far I may be at liberty to speak with reference to the private matters of yourself or of your—your niece, Sir William Weston. I would not willingly interfere—” “Sir,” said he, “your interference has already taken place. Will you have the goodness to explain to me what are your intentions with regard to that lady?” My intentions! Heaven help me! My intentions, of course, were to leave her in her uncle’s hands. Indeed, I could hardly be said to have formed any intention since I had learned that I had been honoured by a lady’s presence. At this moment I deeply regretted that I had thoughtlessly stated to her that I was an unmarried man. In doing so I had had no object. But at that time “Smith” had been quite a stranger to me, and I had not thought it necessary to declare my own private concerns. Since that I had talked so little of myself that the fact of my family at home had not been mentioned. “Will you have the goodness to explain what are your intentions with regard to that lady?” said the baronet. “Oh, Uncle William!” exclaimed Miss Weston, now at length raising her head from her hands.