‘I’m very glad if you think so.’ ‘Yo’ve gi’en him summat to console him. He’ll go about now, thinking he may bear his deafness quite easy like, seein’ yon man as yo’ towd us on were so great and patient. His mind is fair beautiful--Harry’s mind is,’ said Mary, moved out of all reticence. ‘I like him very much,’ said Adrienne; ‘very much indeed.’ ‘Ay! He’s good--good to th’ marrow of his bones, he is.’ ‘Like you, Mary. You and he are well matched.’ ‘Eh, nay! Eh, don’t think o’ that! He’s ne’er said nowt about it.’ ‘He will some time!’ Mary was silent, with a downcast face, till at last she said, ‘I know you’ll ne’er say a word to no one about it. I can trust you to tell you this, as whether he ever says owt about it or not, the vary thowt of ony other mon than him fair gives me a turn.’ ‘Yes,’ said Adrienne. ‘And you do deserve to be happy, Mary. I wonder how it is that you and all yours are so different from other people. I always feel well, and happy, and right with the world, when I am with you.’ Later, as Myles walked with her up Blake Street, Adrienne remarked that the end of September was approaching and the evenings darkened earlier. ‘Yes,’ said Myles, ‘soon winter will be here. And then ... now then, you,’ he added to a passer-by, who gave Adrienne a very close berth; ‘mind your manners when you’re passing a lady.’ ‘I didn’t know you had lady-friends, Myles Heywood,’ replied a smooth voice, as the offender paused, and looked at them. ‘Oh, it’s you!’ said Myles, with trenchant contempt. ‘If I’d known, I wouldn’t have troubled to speak to you.’ And he passed on. ‘Who is the man?’ asked Adrienne. ‘He’s my--step-father,’ said Myles, in a peculiar voice. Adrienne had heard the whole story from Mary; Myles had never been able to speak of it. ‘Oh, forgive me for saying it, but I wish you had not spoken to him in that way.’ ‘Why? How?’ he stammered. ‘Has he ever done you any harm?’ ‘Not directly; but I can’t abide the very looks of him.’ ‘There!’ said she, with a somewhat nervous smile; ‘you are too contemptuous. Reverence is better than contempt; it is indeed.’ ‘Reverence! Would you have me reverence _him_?’ ‘Yes. You ought to reverence human nature--your own nature--in him. If you could have heard yourself speak! Do you know what you would do, if any one spoke to you in that way?’ ‘What?’ ‘Why, you would--I think you would shake him. I can just see you make one stride towards him, and fasten upon him--poor fellow!--to teach him manners.’ ‘You mean that I have none myself. Well, you may be right.’ ‘Are you offended?’ ‘Miss Blisset--you could not offend me.’ ‘I think I could. But do think of what I have said; and try not to be so contemptuous. Will you?’ ‘The next time I meet Jim Hoyle, I’ll take off my hat to him politely--since you wish it.’ ‘You will drive me to despair! How different you are from your reasonable sister, who sees the right bearings of things at once; and from your sensitive brother, who....’