"But I don't!" he cried hastily, "indeed I don't! It is Berwick, only Berwick, that I blame in this matter. I think Mrs. Rebell is wholly innocent! I feel for her the greatest respect! She is incapable, I feel sure, of a wrong thought,"--he spoke with growing agitation. "But think of the whole circumstances--of Madame Sampiero's past life, of Mrs. Rebell's present position! Can you wonder that I feel sure your friendship, even your countenance, might make a great difference? But pray,"--he got up, and looked at Mrs. Kemp very earnestly,--"pray do not suppose I think ill of Mrs. Rebell! Were it so, should I suggest that you--that Lucy--should make a friend of her?" and wringing her hand he left the room, eager to escape before the return of General Kemp and his daughter. * * * * * There are times when the presence of even the best-loved and most trusted grown-up son or daughter could be well spared by father and mother. Mrs. Kemp, during the evening which followed Oliver's afternoon call, thought constantly of the conversation she had held with him, and she longed to tell her husband what had passed. Men were such strange, such inexplicable beings! Doubtless Tom would be able to reassure her as to Oliver Boringdon's interest in this Mrs. Rebell, whose charm had won over Lucy too, for the girl spoke with enthusiasm of the beauty and of the kindness of Madame Sampiero's god-daughter. But nothing could be said in the presence of Lucy, who had regained, during the last day or two, her old lightness of heart and manner, and who showed no wish to go early to bed. At last Mrs. Kemp went up alone, and when, an hour later, the General followed her, and she had the longed-for opportunity of telling her tale, her listener proved most irritatingly quiescent. He went in and out of his dressing-room, saying "Yes," and "That's it, is it?" at suitable intervals. Still, when she stopped speaking, he would suddenly appear in some leisurely state of _déshabillé_ and his wife would feel encouraged, to go on, and even to ask for his opinion and advice. "And now, Tom, what do you _really_ think of the whole matter?" General Kemp came and stood before the fire. He wore his dressing-gown,--a sure sign that he was ready for discussion, if discussion should prove necessary. "Well, Mary, what I _really_ think can be put in a very few words." He advanced till he stood at the foot of the large four-poster, and, with a twinkle in his eye, declaimed the lines:-- "'And it was you, my _Berwick_, you! The friend in whom my soul confided! Who dared to gaze on her--to do, I may say, much the same as I did!'" "Oh! Tom, you should not make fun of such a serious matter," but Mrs. Kemp could not help smiling--the lines were indeed apt.