“Oh! Did Mr. Rayner tell you any more?”
The irony in his tone was now so unmistakable that I hesitated and looked up at him inquiringly.
“I am sure he must have told you that he is a very ill-used man and a very long-suffering husband, and asked you to pity him. Didn’t he, Miss Christie? Ah, I see he did!” he cried.
I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks; but I was indignant at having to submit to this catechism.
“Mr. Rayner never asks impertinent questions,” I said severely.
The young man drew back, muttered “I beg your pardon,” and, turning to watch the rain, began to hum something without any tune to cover his discomfiture. I was sorry directly; but my dignity forbade my calling him back to retract the snub. Yet I was dying to know the reason of his violent prejudice against Mr. Rayner. To my relief, in a few minutes he came back to me of his own accord.
“Miss Christie,” he began nervously, “I am afraid I have offended you. Won’t you forgive me for being carried a little too far by my interest in a lady who herself confessed that she is away from her friends for the first time and not—very happy?”
I could not resist such an appeal as that; I looked up smiling, with tears in my eyes.
“Oh, I am not at all offended! But I should like to know what reason you have for thinking so ill, as you seem to do, of Mr. Rayner.”
“Perhaps I am wrong. I really have no proof that he is anything but what he wishes every one to think him—a light-hearted accomplished man, of idle life and pleasant temper. It is not his fault that, with all his cleverness, his ease of manner is not quite the ease of a gentleman.”