The hope went out of the man’s eyes; he tried again, trusting to a denial: “She says that he was the subject of a coroner’s inquest, and that his disreputable life was the talk of the town a while ago. Was that so?” Betty said nothing. “She says that he was a Papist--that you came into my house and breathed no word of it. Is that so?” Still no answer. “She says that your companionship may sully the innocence of my girls; which is a damned lie--excuse my saying so.... But she says that people are making comments about my girls being seen with you.... I wish to God that were a lie too.” The brooding man put his face in his hands; and there was a long silence. He roused after a little while and went on again: “She says that you, if you stay here, may win the regard of my boy Horace--she says that it would be worse than Miss Sally Ornce.” For a moment Betty thought wearily that he referred to the allurements of some rival lady. It suddenly came to her that the poor fellow meant _mésalliance_. The clumsy man gazed miserably out of the window: “I don’t know what in God’s wonder to do,” he said. The girl bowed: “I understand,” she said. “I will go.” She went and shook hands with him; and quietly left the room.... The two ladies, straining their ears at the door that stood slightly ajar into the next room, were edified. They opened the door a little way and peeped in. They would have been extremely annoyed had they known that Betty had caught a glimpse of them--had taken in the situation at a flash. They were surprised to hear their father sigh. When he put his head down on the table and sobbed, they stole away. Indeed, tittering over the details afterwards with friends, they _declared_, if we may take the word of such as listen at doors, that they were highly amused--that it was near as good as a play.... Betty, tipping the cabman for taking her trunk up to her attic, knocked at Miss Flora Jennyns’ door, entered, and, running to the little old lady’s chair, sank on the footstool at her feet and flung her arms about her knees. “I have come home,” she said, happy to be with the old gentlewoman again. Miss Flora put out her hand and stroked the girl’s brown hair; and she smiled through tears. “I have been very lonely,” she said. A couple of days after Betty had gone, Mr. Pompey Malahide sat down at his desk, a bland smile upon him, and wrote to his son: “DEAR HORACE, The Tory Chest has, you will perhaps have guessed, received another twenty thousand pounds from me. But one must, as a patriot, make sacrifices for the good of the country. You will, I feel sure, be proud to know that the Malahides--our branch of them--are about to take rank as Baronets.