"Then," said Frank Morley, who was walking by her side, "a man after your own taste must be a heartless valetudinarian; for that is what Mr. Singleton has the credit of being."
"As it chances," said Marion, "neither his heartlessness nor his valetudinarianism concerns me in the least—granting that they exist. But I confess to a doubt on that point. Are you very intimately acquainted with him, Mr. Morley?"
Had the moonlight been brighter, it might have been perceived that young Morley flushed at the tone of the question. "No," he answered; "I have no acquaintance with him at all. But that is the opinion of every one."
"The opinion of 'everyone' has very little weight with me," said Marion. "I prefer my own."
"You are quite right to distrust an uncharitable opinion, my dear Marion," interposed Mrs. Dalton's quiet voice. "The fact of its being general is no reason for crediting it. People are always quicker to believe evil than good, I am sorry to say."
"I suppose that is meant for me," said Frank Morley. "But really I am not inclined, on general principles, to believe evil sooner than good. I do think, however, that some weight is to be given to a consensus of public opinion."
"What a large word!" cried Helen, laughing, while Rathborne observed, with his familiar sneer:—
"A word which represents a large fact also, but a fact that must be based on knowledge in order to have any value. Now, the public opinion of Scarborough has no knowledge at all of Mr. Singleton. Therefore its decision about him has no value."
"I am glad to hear it," said Marion; "for I do not believe that he is either heartless or a valetudinarian."
"I suppose he made himself agreeable to you," said young Morley.