"Then I'll not talk of it." "And you'll not go back?" "I never go back," said Maurice; "I'm a Hinchford." "All the Hinchfords whom I have known have been honest, earnest men, striving to do good, and detesting cunning and disguise. I hope that you are the first that has disgraced the name." "I hope so. Phew! how hot it is!" Maurice Hinchford felt exceedingly uncomfortable under these continued attacks; still there was a novelty in all this dispraise and plain-speaking. A brusque young woman this, whose character interested him, and whose warmth in his cousin's service he respected, despite the darts with which she transfixed him. He did not flinch from the purpose he had formed, however. He _was_ anxious to see his cousin, to receive the attack in full, and defend himself; to prove to Sidney, if it were possible, that he was not quite the unprincipled villain that was generally supposed. So he kept on his way, and this first little dash of the waters of opposition against him did not affect him much. Mattie's energetic advice puzzled him, certainly; she spoke warmly in Sidney's cause--as if she were interested in him, and had a right to take his part--was there any reason for that brisk attack upon him, save her own outraged dignity at the slander which, by his means, had indirectly fallen upon her? He kept pace with her, but did not speak again. She was not inclined to reply with any "graciousness" to his questions; he saw that he had annoyed her already by the object of his mission, and that it was the better policy, the truer act of courtesy, to maintain a rigid silence. Mattie spoke first. "This is the house," she said, stopping before a shop already closed for the night. "You are still of the same mind?" "Yes." "You cannot do good here--you may do harm." "Your pardon, but I am of a different opinion." "Very well then." Mattie gave a little impetuous tug to the bell; Ann Packet opened the door, and Mattie and her unwilling escort passed into the shop, the latter the object of immense attraction from the round-eyed, open-mouthed serving-maid. Events flowed on so regularly and monotonously in that quarter of the world, that the advent of a tall, well-dressed stranger, was a thing to be remarked, and, Ann Packet hoped, to be explained. Mattie ran at once into the parlour, where her father was sitting over his work. He looked up with a bright smile as she entered. "Where's Sidney, father?" "In his own room." "Here is his cousin. Sidney must be prepared to see him, or to deny himself to him." "What cousin is that?" Mr. Gray asked, a little irrelevantly, being taken aback by the news.