Heathcote's injunctions of secrecy and promise to be secret were rendered unavailing, for Mr. Chetwode, who had entered unperceived, had been the astonished auditor of his last speech. Heathcote, with the instinctive dislike that all selfish men feel to the idea of "a scene," uttered a few hasty words of apology to Mr. Chetwode, and made a speedy escape, while the astonished guardian took a seat near Janet in silence: he felt hurt and annoyed; no one likes to meet with vexations that they have not anticipated, and certainly Mr. Chetwode had never dreamed that his poor little ward, Janet, would give him any trouble about her love affairs. "My dear Janet," he said at length, "I gather from the few words that I heard on entering the room, that you have construed some slight civilities, shown you by Mr. Heathcote, into proofs of a serious attachment. I am sorry and also surprised that you should have fallen under such a misapprehension; for it was quite evident to me, and to many others, that Mr. Heathcote was an admirer of Philippa." Janet removed her hands from her face, and steadily met the glance of her guardian. "I assure you," she said, "that I have received more than slight attentions from Mr. Heathcote; Philippa is aware of it, and there has never been any feeling of rivalry between us; he declared his affection for me some weeks ago." Mr. Chetwode could not avoid giving rather a discourteous start of amazement; but quickly remembering the proverb, that "there is no accounting for tastes," he said, in a kinder tone of voice, "And how did he make this avowal to you, my dear?" "By letter," replied Janet. Mr. Chetwode began to feel exceedingly indignant with Heathcote. To write a declaration of love to a young lady, and then, without assigning any reason for his conduct, to break faith with her, was, he justly thought, highly blamable under any circumstances, and peculiarly mysterious under those of poor Janet, since a lover who could once forget her personal disadvantages must be very much in love indeed, and could not have the shadow of an excuse for changing his mind afterwards, as the qualities of her mind and temper were such as to improve upon acquaintance. "Have you any objection, Janet," he said, "to show me this letter?" "It is not a letter," faltered Janet, "it is a copy of verses."