"Would say that I am very bold at the least; but then I do not belong to the polite world."
"Nor do I," said John aloud; "and if you can only assure me that I may hope to be the means of reconciling the two cousins, I shall be satisfied. I shall not care—I shall not so much care, at any rate—what is thought of me."
"We will not discuss that, Mr. Tincroft. But I must tell you, having promised to be candid, that from what I know of Walter Wilson, your appearance here will probably so rouse his passion that you will not get even a hearing."
"I am sorry for that," said John.
"He will only think, and perhaps say, that being already tired of your new toy, you are only anxious to resign it to the old possessor."
"But you do not think so, Miss Burgess?" John asked, anxiously.
"No, I do not; but our judgments of each other so much depend on the points of view from which they are taken. Now, my friend Walter has been wounded in his love for his cousin, and also, I may say (having promised to be candid), in his self-love. He looks upon you as the destroyer of his peace, and he will naturally attribute to you the worst motives for what others would, it may be, consider very generous and self-denying."
"I see all this, Miss Burgess," said the penitent; "but what better can I do?"
"Will you entrust your cause to an advocate?"
"Willingly; but you see it is not my cause so much as that of others. It is Miss Wilson's cause, and not only hers, it is Walter Wilson's cause also."