"Then do you mind telling me what you do mean?"
Gwynneth did her best to explain the occasion and to describe the service, but found herself unable to do the subject justice in a few words, and drifted into a nervous enthusiasm as she went. Sidney's eyes seemed smaller than when she began; she had never known he had so sharp a chin. But he heard her out, standing in the doorway, and not always looking her way; it was when averted that his face looked so hard. When she had finished he gave her his whole attention, and was some time regarding her, his hands in his pockets, without a word.
"So you deliberately went to hear that blackguard!"
"You needn't call him that," said Gwynneth, hotly.
"But I do."
"I should be ashamed to abuse him after all he has done!"
"That doesn't alter what—what you apparently and very properly know nothing about, Gwynneth."
"And I don't want to know!" cried the girl, indignant at his tone. "I only say, whatever he has done, he has paid very bitterly for it, and made such amends as were never made by anybody I ever heard of. He may have been all you say. He is more than all that I can say now!"
"And what do you say?" inquired Sidney, with polite contempt.
"That we shall honour ourselves in future by honouring him, and dishonour ourselves by continuing to dishonour him. He has had his punishment, and look how he has borne it! Why, he has done what was never done in the world before by one solitary man."