“If you wish me to tell you, as perhaps I ought, I know this, Colonel Monk, that the other night, when I was driving along the Rectory road, I saw your son, Mr. Monk, kissing this wonderful Miss Fregelius; that is all, and Stephen saw it also, you ask him.” “Thank you; I think I would rather not. But what an odd place for him to choose for this interchange of early Christian courtesies! Also—if you are not mistaken—how well it illustrates that line in the hymn this morning: “‘How many a spot defiles the robe that wraps an earthly saint.’ Such adventures seem scarcely in Morris’s line, and I should have thought that even an inexperienced saint would have been more discreet.” “Men always jest at serious things,” said Eliza severely. “Which do you mean—the saints or the kissing? Both are serious enough, but the two in combination——” “Don’t you believe me?” asked Eliza. “Of course. But could you give me a few details?” Eliza could and did—with amplifications. “Now, what do you say, Colonel Monk?” she asked triumphantly. “I say that I think you have made an awkward mistake, Miss Layard. It seems to me that all you saw is quite consistent with the theory that he was buttoning or arranging the young lady’s hood. I understand that the wind was very high that night.” Eliza started; this was a new and unpleasant interpretation which she hastened to repudiate. “Arranging her hood, indeed——” “When he might have been kissing her? You cannot understand such moderation. Still, it is possible, and he ought to have the benefit of the doubt. Witnesses to character would be valuable in such a case, and his—not to mention the lady’s—is curiously immaculate.” “Of course you are entitled to your own opinion, but I have mine.” Suddenly the Colonel changed his bantering, satirical tone, and became stern and withering. “Miss Layard,” he said, “does it occur to you that on evidence which would not suffice to convict a bicyclist of riding on a footpath, you are circulating a scandal of which the issue might be very grave to both the parties concerned?” “I am not circulating anything. I was telling you privately;” replied Eliza, still trying to be bold. “I am glad to hear it. I understand that neither you nor your brother have spoken of this extraordinary tale, and I am quite certain that you will not speak of it in the future.” “I cannot answer for my brother,” she said sulkily. “No, but in his own interest and in yours I trust that you will make him understand that if I hear a word of this I shall hold him to account. Also, that his propagation of such a slander will react upon you, who were with him.” “How?” asked Eliza, now thoroughly frightened, for when he chose the Colonel could be very crushing.