She stopped, more from lack of breath to proceed than from any immediate prospect that appeared of John’s responding to her attack. He felt called upon, however, to make some reply to what sounded like an implied accusation of lukewarmness, and of a disposition to “take things” far more easily than he was in the humour to do. His mother’s abrupt onslaught had, however, already produced an effect directly contrary to what the indignant old lady had intended. She had either forgotten or ignored the sensible proverb which saith “Scald not thy lips in another man’s porridge,” and had aroused in her son that fraction of masculine dignity which causes its possessor to resist interference in the management of his house and _harem_. Besides, John’s love for the beautiful object of Mrs. Beacham’s jealousy was still far too strong for him to endure patiently the hearing his wife found fault with by any other than himself; and this being the case, his reply did not greatly tend to Mrs. Beacham’s satisfaction. “Jack Winthrop is a chattering fool. I daresay he mistook Honor for someone else, for one of young Vavasour’s sisters probably; and even if she _was_ riding in the Park, where’s the mighty harm? It was but yesterday he saw her--_says_ he saw her, at least--and it’s quite time enough to pull her up if she says nothing of it herself next time she writes, which will be to-morrow if I’m not mistaken.” And John, having so said, pushed back his chair with the evident intention of closing the conference. His mother, however, was not to be thus cheated of her treat. She had not been waiting for six mortal hours to be put off with such a stupid shuffle as that! No! For once in his life John should hear reason, let what would come of it, and if there was no one else to tell him the truth, his mother would do _her_ duty, and point out to the infatuated man what, in this crisis of his fate, was _his_! “John, John!” she said, lifting up a stubborn finger warningly; “if I hadn’t heerd and seen this myself, I never could--and that’s the truth--have believed it. To think that you, a man grown and with a man’s blood in your veins, should let a woman lead you by the nose like this!” “Nonsense, mother!” with an unsuccessful effort to laugh the matter off. “No one is leading me, or thinking of leading me, by the nose, as you call it. Honor is a silly girl, I don’t say she isn’t, and she’s fond of a horse; and if her father--gad! how I hate to speak of the fellow!--if her father put it into her foolish head to ride, why ride she would, nor I don’t blame her neither. So, mother, let you and I hear the rights of it before we blame her; and what’s more--you’ll forgive my speaking”--approaching nearer, and his breath coming shorter as he spoke--“but if you would remember, mother dear, not to speak to anyone in the village about this--story--of Honor and the--the Park, I should esteem it very kind, and--”