"I hope I see Miss Dalzell well?" said Burton, offering his hand.
"Well, thank you," answered she, not appearing to notice it—he bit his lip, and dropped beside her.
"I really should like to know where you go every day—where you have been this morning, Minnie?" asked her uncle crossly.
"Shall I tell you, uncle?" she answered, and then, without giving herself a moment to consider possible consequences to herself or others, with the too hasty candour of a generous mind anxious to espouse the weaker side, she continued, addressing herself this time to Marmaduke Burton,—"I've been to Mary Burns's cottage, and there I met Mr. Skaife, and your cousin, Mr. Burton, Mr. Tremenhere." Certainly she created an effect; the squire tottered and became ghastly pale, Juvenal looked amazed and annoyed. "What—together?" he cried. "How came that about? Where is Mr. Tremenhere? and how dare you become acquainted with that man?"
"Your surprise equals mine," said Burton, recovering himself partially, then added ironically—"Our young curate might do better composing his sermons, than becoming bear-leader to an impostor, and a man of Mr. Tremenhere's character. As cousin, Miss Dalzell, allow me to disavow him; he is none such by law, and I have no desire to outstep any bounds to claim that enviable distinction."
"I only judge the law of humanity," she replied, in a slightly tremulous tone; she began to be afraid of the storm of such passions as his face bespoke working in his frame. "And no man should be condemned for the faults—if faults there were—of his parents."
"If faults there were," said Burton, echoing her words. "Allow me, Miss Dalzell, to reject, in all politeness, the right your speech offers me, of standing in Mr. Tremenhere's position. He or I am an impostor, a claimant to an unjust title of proprietorship; besides, there are more personal faults appertaining to that gentleman, at variance with my ideas of honour."
For an instant a doubt crossed her mind about Mary and Miles; could Burton allude to this? But her heart repudiated the thought.
"Did he become suddenly so wicked?" she calmly asked. "As boys together—as men, indeed—up to the period of his father's death, had he the deep hypocrisy to conceal all this?"
"Miss Dalzell seems well informed of my history," he said, through his half-closed teeth. "I cannot but feel flattered by the kind interest it evinces in me." He bowed low.