"You and I have never been rosebud gatherers, Christie Bayle. It will give us the better opportunity for watching those who are. Bayle, old friend, we must look out: there must be no handsome, plausible scoundrel to come and cull that fragrant little bloom--we must not have another sweet young life wrecked--like hers." He made a backward motion with his head towards the house they had left. "Heaven forbid!" cried Bayle anxiously; and his countenance was full of wonder and dismay. "You must look out, sir, look out," said Sir Gordon, thumping his cane. "But she is a mere girl yet." "Pish! man; tush! man. It is your mere girls who form these fancies. What have you been about?" "About?" said Bayle. "About? I don't know. I have thought of such a thing as my little pupil forming an attachment, but it seemed to be a thing of the far-distant future." Sir Gordon shook his head. "There is nothing then now?" "Oh, absurd! Why, she is only eighteen!" "Eighteen!" said Gordon sharply; "and at eighteen girls are only cutting their teeth and wearing pinafores, eh? Go to: blind mole of a parson! Why, millions of them lose their hearts long before that. Come, come, man, wake up! A pretty watchman of that fair sweet tower you are, to have never so much as thought of the enemy, when already he may be making his approach." Bayle turned to him, looking half-bewildered, but the look passed off. "No," he said firmly; "the enemy is not in sight yet, and you shall not have cause to speak to me again like, that." "That's right, Bayle; that's right. Dear, dear," he sighed as they walked slowly towards the city, "how time does gallop on! It seems just one step from Millicent Luttrell's girlhood to that of her child. Yes, yes, yes: these young people increase, and grow so rapidly that they fill up the world and shoulder us old folk over the edge." "Unless they have yachts," said Bayle, smiling. "Plenty of room at sea." "Ah, to be sure; that reminds me. I have been at sea. Man, man, what an impostor you are." "I!" exclaimed Bayle, looking round at his companion in a startled manner. "To be sure. Poor lady! She has been confiding to me while you were chatting with little Julia about the piano." Bayle gave an angry stamp. "And your careful management of the remains of her husband's property." Bayle knit his brow and increased his pace. "No, no," cried Sir Gordon, snatching at and taking his arm. "No running away from unpleasant truths, Christie Bayle. You paid the counsel for Hallam's defence, did you not?" Bayle nodded shortly, and uttered an angry ejaculation. "And there was not a shilling left when Hallam was gone?" No answer. "Come, come, speak. I am going to have the truth, my friend: priesthood and deception must not go hand in hand. Now then, did Hallam have any money?" "If he had it would have been handed over to Dixons' Bank," said Bayle sharply. "I should have seen it done."