“Stay now, if you will, madam,” returned the schoolmaster, with a bow of oldest-fashioned courtesy. “This lady has done laying her commands upon me, I believe.” “As you think proper to call them commands, Mr Graham, I conclude you intend to obey them,” said Mrs Marshal, with a forced smile and an attempt at pleasantry. “Not for the world, madam,” he answered. “Your son is acting the part of a gentleman--yes, I make bold to say, of one who is very nigh the kingdom of heaven, if not indeed within its gate, and before I would check him I would be burnt at the stake--even were your displeasure the fire, madam,” he added, with a kindly bow. “Your son is a line fellow.” “He would be, if he were left to himself. Good evening, Mr Graham. Good-bye, rather, for I _think_ we are not likely to meet again.” “In heaven, I hope, madam; for by that time we shall be able to understand each other,” said the schoolmaster, still kindly. Mrs Marshal made no answer beyond a facial flash as she turned to Clementina. “Good evening, ma’am,” she said. “To pay court to the earthen vessel because of the treasure it may happen to hold, is to be a respecter of persons as bad as any.” An answering flash broke from Clementina’s blue orbs, but her speech was more than calm as she returned, “I learned something of that lesson last Sunday evening, I hope, ma’am. But you have left me far behind, for you seem to have learned disrespect even to the worthiest of persons. Good evening, ma’am.” She looked the angry matron full in the face, with an icy regard, from which, as from the Gorgon eye, she fled. The victor turned to the schoolmaster. “I beg your pardon, sir,” she said, “for presuming to take your part, but a gentleman is helpless with a vulgar woman.” “I thank you, madam. I hope the sharpness of your rebuke----but indeed the poor woman can hardly help her rudeness, for she is very worldly, and believes herself very pious. It is the old story-- hard for the rich.” Clementina was struck. “I too am rich and worldly,” she said. “But I know that I am not pious, and if you would but satisfy me that religion is common sense, I would try to be religious with all my heart and soul.” “I willingly undertake the task. But let us know each other a little first. And lest I should afterwards seem to have taken an advantage of you, I hope you have no wish to be nameless to me, for my friend Malcolm MacPhail had so described you that I recognized your ladyship at once.” Clementina said that, on the contrary, she had given her name to the woman who opened the door. “It is because of what Malcolm said of you that I ventured to come to you,” she added. “Have you seen Malcolm lately?” he asked, his brow clouding a little. “It is more than a week since he has been to me.” Thereupon, with embarrassment, such as she would never have felt except in the presence of pure simplicity, she told of his disappearance with his mistress.