“Then it is good-bye indeed,” he answered, after a long silence. He stood up and without another word left her. Winnie began to cry silently. In that pleasure garden, fit scene for the careless trifling of fair ladies in hoops and of gentlemen in periwigs, every one else seemed happy and unconcerned. Children in their bright dresses played with merry shouts and their nurses idly gossiped. A tremor passed through Winnie’s body as she struggled in vain to restrain her sobbing. * * * * * In the afternoon Winnie told her father that she had seen Bertram. She felt still as though her heart were breaking. “Oh, father, I feel so ashamed,” she moaned. Canon Spratte pursed his lips and nodded once or twice gravely. He did not approve of this stolen interview, but presumed it would be the last. He addressed her in grave, sonorous tones. “You do well to feel ashamed, my child. I hope this will be a warning and a lesson to you. You see what comes of disobeying your father, and setting yourself obstinately and irreligiously against his better judgment. In future I trust you will be more dutiful. Believe me, it is always best to honour your parents; and if you don’t you’re sure to be punished for it.” “Oughtn’t I to tell Harry?” she asked. “Tell him what?” cried the Canon, perfectly aghast. “I think he ought to know that I was engaged to Bertram.” “Certainly not,” he answered, with the utmost decision. “I entirely forbid you to do anything of the sort, and I hope you’ve been sufficiently punished for your wilful disobedience to obey me now. Wroxham is very susceptible, and it’s your duty to give him no anxiety. And whatever you do, don’t begin your married life by confessing everything to your husband. It will only bore him to death. Besides, one never can tell the whole truth, and it leads inevitably to deception and subterfuge.” “But suppose he finds out?” Canon Spratte gave a sigh of genuine relief, for after all the fear of discovery is the easiest form of conscience to deal with. “Is that all you’re frightened of, my darling?” he said. “Leave it to me. I’ll tell him all that’s necessary.” And the next time he found himself alone with Wroxham, he took the opportunity to set the matter right. “By the way, Harry, Winnie wants me to tell you something that’s rather worrying her. You know what girls are. They often have a sensitiveness of conscience which is very charming but at the same time rather ridiculous. I don’t suppose you ever heard of a young man called Railing?’” “You mean the Socialist? Winnie gave me his book to read.” “I may say I was among the first to discover its striking merit. I thought it my duty to encourage him, and I asked him to come and see us. His father, it appears, was a coal-heaver, and I thought him a very remarkable fellow. But he repaid my kindness by falling in love with Winnie and asking her to marry him.” “Why didn’t you kick him down-stairs?” laughed Wroxham, lightly.