"You must allow other people to be the best judge of that," said Mrs Featherly, drawing herself up stiffly. "Both Mr Featherly and I are of opinion that appearances are very much against him; and appearances, let me assure you, are exceedingly momentous things. At the same time, it may be the duty of society to make a point of not proceeding to extremities, and, taking into consideration the young man's position in the county as a gentleman of independent means, as the son also of your late Vicar, society in my opinion acted as it should in extending its congratulations on the approaching event, while the young man has, to say the least, been injudicious. Most injudicious." "It is certain that he would not meet society on such terms," said Winifred, with difficulty commanding her voice. "My dear, a young lady should not undertake a gentlemans defence so warmly." Poor Winifred was helpless, angry, and provoked almost to tears. For though her heart was not too sore to be generous, every now and then so sharp a pang struck through it, that her only refuge seemed to lie in such hard thoughts of Anthony as should convince herself that she was indifferent. She did not want to be his defender. And yet it was unendurable to hear him suspected. Perhaps she did the best that she could when she stopped and said gravely,-- "If we talk about him any more, I might say things which you might call rude, and you are too old a friend for me to like to affront you. But I want you to understand that Anthony Miles was brought up like our brother, and I know it is as impossible for him to have done such an act as you suppose, as for my father to have done it. There is some unfortunate mistake. Please, whether you believe me or not, do not say any more about it. Did you not wish to see Mr Robert? There he is. I must go to Bessie." So poor Winifred carried her swelling heart across the sunshine which lay warm on the soft grass, and past the blossoming roses, leaving Mrs Featherly more keenly mortified than she knew. No possibility of a last word was left to her, and she was so utterly discomfited that she even forgot the organ and Mr Robert. But as she drove home she said to her husband,-- "James, we shall pass that man Smiths, and I must beg that you will get out and tell him that I cannot allow Mary Anne to come to the Sunday school with flowers in her bonnet." "If you wish it, my dear, of course," Mr Featherly said reluctantly. "But it might be as well not to irritate that man just as he is beginning to show signs of a better--"