“I can’t bear him!” she said; “and I don’t see a great deal of him—at least, I did not, but since Christmas Day he has been more with Miss Osric and me.”
“Have as little to do with him as possible,” said Katharine earnestly. “Your cousin ought not to allow him to be with you. I will tell you something about him, Sydney, and then you will see what I mean.”
She played nervously for a minute with the fire-screen on her knee, then began, speaking low.
“It is a story about a girl, not very much older than you are, whose life was spoiled because she listened to him. This girl cared for a man very much indeed, and he cared for her; only she would not be engaged, because the man did not care enough to give up his faults and extravagances for her sake.
“But she did care, more than you can understand! Sir Algernon knew her, and one day he asked her to marry him. She said ‘No,’ of course, and he was angry, for he guessed about this other man.... Then—I don’t know how to tell you, Sydney dear—a very dreadful thing happened.... The man she cared for was suspected of doing an exceedingly dishonourable action. The girl was away from home when this—thing—happened, so she knew nothing till she came back. The first thing she did when she heard, was to snatch up pen and paper and write a letter to the man she loved, telling him that she did not believe a word against him, and only cared for him more if possible than she had done before....”
“That’s the kind of thing you would have done!” cried Sydney; “please go on. Wasn’t the man very, very pleased to get the letter?”
Katharine knelt down to stir the fire, although it did not stand in any need of stirring.
“She never sent the letter, Sydney dear.... She had just addressed it when Sir Algernon came in. He told her he had come to ask for her advice. He had had a letter, seeming to come from some poor woman in distress, he said, and asking for his help. Knowing the girl was interested in such cases, he asked her if she would read the letter, and tell him if she thought the case one suited for his help....
“Of course the girl said ‘Yes,’ and he gave her a dirty envelope, looking very carefully inside it first, she saw, though she hardly noticed at the time. He told her, as he gave it to her, that she would need to read it very carefully and slowly, as the woman was exceedingly illiterate.... It was written in a cramped, odd hand-writing, but it was quite correctly spelled. When the girl had read about half, she saw that the letter was from no poor woman ... but from the man she cared for, and oh, Sydney! it seemed to show beyond possibility of doubt that he was guilty of this dreadful meanness in which the girl had refused to believe.... Sir Algernon pretended to be dreadfully distressed when the girl gave him back the half-read letter, and said he must have put this by mistake into the wrong envelope, and he never should forgive himself, for he had promised to suppress the man’s letter, because they had been friends. And the girl thought he was very generous!