"Dalrymple?—that brother of Mrs. Digby's you spoke of? I've heard of that fellow. I was curious to know who he was, and I made inquiries at the club. He is a rather considerable scamp, if all tales are true."
"All tales are not true," replied the girl, with majestic calmness.
"And pray how do you know?" he retorted quickly, a little amused and a great deal irritated by her highly indiscreet behaviour. "I don't suppose that you have heard all that I have—at any rate, I hope not."
"I know enough," she stammered hurriedly; "I know the worst anyone can say against him."
"I hope not," repeated Mr. Kingston, with ominous gravity.
"And I know he has done wrong—done very wrong, indeed; but he has had such terrible provocations—he has been, oh, so dreadfully unfortunate!" she went on, wishing heartily that she had not undertaken her new friend's defence, yet finding it easier to go through with it now than to turn back and desert him. "And, whatever he may have been once, he is doing nothing to harm anybody now; and it is cruel of people to be always raking up the past, when it is done with and repented of, and throwing it in his teeth. Any of us would think it hard and unfair—you would yourself."
"Never mind me, my dear; my past is not being called in question that I am aware of."
Mr. Kingston's not very placid temper was rising.
"He is doing nothing wrong now," she repeated, frightened but reckless; "if he were, Mr. Thornley would not invite him here—he said so himself. And Lucilla, though she does not like him—nobody likes him, indeed—says he would never do a mean action, and that he has perfect manners, and that he is a thorough gentleman every way. I think they all agree about that."
"And yet don't like him. That is rather inconsistent. And what about yourself, Rachel? If it is not a rude question—are you an exception in this respect, or not?"