"Men, for instance," suggested Eliza.

"Dear me! that sounds almost carnivorous. I am afraid that there are not many about here to satisfy her appet.i.te. Your brother, Morris, the curate at Morton, and myself, if at my age I may creep into that honourable company, are the only single creatures within four miles, and from these Stephen and Morris must apparently be eliminated."

"Why should Morris be eliminated?"

"A reason may occur to you."

"Do you mean because he is engaged? What on earth does that matter?"

"Nothing--in the East--but, rightly or wrongly, we have decided upon a monogamous system; a man can't marry two wives, Miss Layard."

"But he can throw over one girl to marry another."

"Do you suggest that Morris is contemplating this experiment?"

"I? I suggest nothing; all I know is----"

"Well, now, what do you know?"

"If you wish me to tell you, as perhaps I ought, I know this, Colonel Monk, that the other night, when I was driving along the Rectory road, I saw your son, Mr. Monk, kissing this wonderful Miss Fregelius; that is all, and Stephen saw it also, you ask him."

"Thank you; I think I would rather not. But what an odd place for him to choose for this interchange of early Christian courtesies! Also--if you are not mistaken--how well it ill.u.s.trates that line in the hymn this morning:

"'How many a spot defiles the robe that wraps an earthly saint.'

Such adventures seem scarcely in Morris's line, and I should have thought that even an inexperienced saint would have been more discreet."

"Men always jest at serious things," said Eliza severely.

"Which do you mean--the saints or the kissing? Both are serious enough, but the two in combination----"

"Don't you believe me?" asked Eliza.

"Of course. But could you give me a few details?"

Eliza could and did--with amplifications.

"Now, what do you say, Colonel Monk?" she asked triumphantly.

"I say that I think you have made an awkward mistake, Miss Layard. It seems to me that all you saw is quite consistent with the theory that he was b.u.t.toning or arranging the young lady's hood. I understand that the wind was very high that night."

Eliza started; this was a new and unpleasant interpretation which she hastened to repudiate. "Arranging her hood, indeed----"

"When he might have been kissing her? You cannot understand such moderation. Still, it is possible, and he ought to have the benefit of the doubt. Witnesses to character would be valuable in such a case, and his--not to mention the lady's--is curiously immaculate."

"Of course you are ent.i.tled to your own opinion, but I have mine."

Suddenly the Colonel changed his bantering, satirical tone, and became stern and withering.

"Miss Layard," he said, "does it occur to you that on evidence which would not suffice to convict a bicyclist of riding on a footpath, you are circulating a scandal of which the issue might be very grave to both the parties concerned?"

"I am not circulating anything. I was telling you privately;" replied Eliza, still trying to be bold.

"I am glad to hear it. I understand that neither you nor your brother have spoken of this extraordinary tale, and I am quite certain that you will not speak of it in the future."

"I cannot answer for my brother," she said sulkily.

"No, but in his own interest and in yours I trust that you will make him understand that if I hear a word of this I shall hold him to account.

Also, that his propagation of such a slander will react upon you, who were with him."

"How?" asked Eliza, now thoroughly frightened, for when he chose the Colonel could be very crushing.

"Thus: Your brother's evidence is that of an interested person which no one will accept; and of yours, Miss Layard, it might be inferred that it was actuated by jealousy of a charming and quite innocent girl; or, perhaps, by other motives even worse, which I would rather you did not ask me to suggest."

Eliza did not ask him. She was too wise. As she knew well, when roused the Colonel was a man with a bitter tongue and a good memory.

"I am sure I am the last person who would wish to do mischief," she said in a humble voice.

"Of course, I know that, I know that. Well, now we understand each other, so I must be turning home. Thank you so much for having been quite candid with me. Good morning, Miss Layard; remember me to Stephen."

"Phew!" reflected the Colonel to himself, "that battle is won--after a fashion--but just about forty-eight hours too late. By this time that vixen of a woman has put the story all over the place. Oh, Morris, you egregious a.s.s, if you wanted to take to kissing like a schoolboy, why the deuce did you select the high road for the purpose? This must be put a stop to. I must take steps, and at once. They mustn't be seen together again, or there will be trouble with Mary. But how to do it? how to do it? That is the question, and one to which I must find an answer within the next two hours. What a kettle of fish! What a pretty kettle of fish!"

In due course, and after diligent search, he found the answer to this question.

At lunch time the Colonel remarked casually that he had walked a little way with Miss Layard, who mentioned that she had seen them--i.e., his son and Miss Fregelius--struggling through the gale the other night.

Then he watched the effect of this shot. Morris moved his chair and looked uncomfortable; clearly he was a most transparent sinner. But on Stella it took no effect.

"As usual," reflected the Colonel, "the lady has the most control.

Or perhaps he tried to kiss her and she wouldn't let him, and a consciousness of virtue gives her strength."

After luncheon the Colonel paid a visit to Mr. Fregelius, ostensibly to talk to him about the proposed restoration of the chancel, for which he, as holder of the great t.i.thes, was jointly liable with the rector, a responsibility that, in the altered circ.u.mstances of the family, he now felt himself able to face. When this subject was exhausted, which did not take long, as Mr. Fregelius refused to express any positive opinion until he had inspected the church, the Colonel's manner grew portentously solemn.

"My dear sir," he said, "there is another matter, a somewhat grave one, upon which, for both our sakes and the sakes of those immediately concerned, I feel bound to say a few words."

Mr. Fregelius, who was a timid man, looked very much alarmed. A conviction that the "grave matter" had something to do with Stella flashed into his mind, but all he said was:

"I am afraid I don't understand, Colonel Monk."

"No; indeed, how should you? Well, to come to the point, it has to do with that very charming daughter of yours and my son Morris."

"I feared as much," groaned the clergyman.

"Indeed! I thought you said you did not understand."

"No, but I guessed; wherever Stella goes things seem to happen."