Jane soon heard more of the cause of the depression of her cousin’s spirits than even she had any desire to do. After dinner, the girls were walking in the garden, enjoying the warmth of the evening, when Mr. Devereux came up to her and drew her aside from the rest, telling her that he wished to speak to her. ‘Oh!’ said Jane, ‘when am I to meet you at school again? You never told me which chapter I was to prepare; I cannot think what would become of your examinations if it was not for me, you could not get an answer to one question in three.’ ‘That was not what I wished to speak to you about,’ said Mr. Devereux. ‘What had you been saying to Mrs. Appleton when I met you at her door on Saturday?’ The colour rushed into Jane’s cheeks, but she replied without hesitation, ‘Oh! different things, _La pluie et le beau temps_, just as usual.’ ‘Cannot you remember anything more distinctly?’ ‘I always make a point of forgetting what I talk about,’ said Jane, trying to laugh. ‘Now, Jane, let me tell you what has happened in the village—as I came down the hill from the club-dinner—’ ‘Oh,’ said Jane, hoping to make a diversion, ‘Wat Greenwood came back about a quarter of an hour ago, and he—’ Mr. Devereux proceeded without attending to her, ‘As I came down the hill from the club-dinner, old Mrs. Gage came out of Naylor’s house, and her daughter with her, in great anger, calling me to account for having spoken of her in a most unbecoming way, calling her the sour Gage, and trying to set the Squire against them.’ ‘Oh, that abominable chattering woman!’ Jane exclaimed; ‘and Betsy Wall too, I saw her all alive about something. What a nuisance such people are!’ ‘In short,’ said Mr. Devereux, ‘I heard an exaggerated account of all that passed here on the subject the other day. Now, Jane, am I doing you any injustice in thinking that it must have been through you that this history went abroad into the village?’ ‘Well,’ said Jane, ‘I am sure you never told us that it was any secret. When a story is openly told to half a dozen people they cannot be expected to keep it to themselves.’ ‘I spoke uncharitably and incautiously,’ said he, ‘I am willing to confess, but it is nevertheless my duty to set before you the great matter that this little fire has kindled.’ ‘Why, it cannot have done any great harm, can it?’ asked Jane, the agitation of her voice and laugh betraying that she was not quite so careless as she wished to appear. ‘Only the sour Gage will ferment a little.’ ‘Oh, Jane! I did not expect that you would treat this matter so lightly.’ ‘But tell me, what harm has it done?’ asked she. ‘Do you consider it nothing that the poor child should remain unbaptized, that discord should be brought into the parish, that anger should be on the conscience of your neighbour, that he should be driven from the church?’ ‘Is it as bad as that?’ said Jane. ‘We do not yet see the full extent of the mischief our idle words may have done,’ said Mr. Devereux.