“Oh, then it was Mr. Rayner who told you?” “Yes.” “And Mrs. Rayner has never got over it?” “No. It seems difficult to believe, doesn’t it, that a brilliant woman who wrote books and was much admired should fade like that into a kind of shadow? I wonder she doesn’t write more books to divert her thoughts from brooding over the past.” “Oh, she wrote books! Did she tell you so herself?” “No--Mr. Rayner.” “Oh! Did Mr. Rayner tell you any more?” The irony in his tone was now so unmistakable that I hesitated and looked up at him inquiringly. “I am sure he must have told you that he is a very ill-used man and a very long-suffering husband, and asked you to pity him. Didn’t he, Miss Christie? Ah, I see he did!” he cried. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks; but I was indignant at having to submit to this catechism. “Mr. Rayner never asks impertinent questions,” I said severely. The young man drew back, muttered “I beg your pardon,” and, turning to watch the rain, began to hum something without any tune to cover his discomfiture. I was sorry directly; but my dignity forbade my calling him back to retract the snub. Yet I was dying to know the reason of his violent prejudice against Mr. Rayner. To my relief, in a few minutes he came back to me of his own accord. “Miss Christie,” he began nervously, “I am afraid I have offended you. Won’t you forgive me for being carried a little too far by my interest in a lady who herself confessed that she is away from her friends for the first time and not--very happy?” I could not resist such an appeal as that; I looked up smiling, with tears in my eyes. “Oh, I am not at all offended! But I should like to know what reason you have for thinking so ill, as you seem to do, of Mr. Rayner.” “Perhaps I am wrong. I really have no proof that he is anything but what he wishes every one to think him--a light-hearted accomplished man, of idle life and pleasant temper. It is not his fault that, with all his cleverness, his ease of manner is not quite the ease of a gentleman.” I was scarcely experienced enough to have found that out for myself. I considered for a moment, and then said rather timidly-- “Won’t you tell me anything more? You can if you will, I think, and, alone in the world as I am, I want all the knowledge I can get of the people I live among, to guide me in my conduct.” He seemed to debate with himself for a moment; then he sat down beside me on the other shaft of the cart, and said very earnestly-- “Seriously, then, Miss Christie, I would advise you to leave the Alders as soon as you possibly can, even before you have got another engagement. You are in the midst of more dangers than you can possibly know of, more probably than I know of myself, more certainly than I can warn you against.”