It was a wonderful thing to John to be appealed to with such confidence, and in such well-chosen language, as he thought it, by a ladylike woman to whom, less than an hour ago, he had been a complete stranger, and to be thought by her as worthy of trust.
"Could he trust her?" Yes, to be sure he could; and he answered her with a little more enthusiasm than was his wont that he could and would. "If I only had a sister to have advised with and consulted, mine would have been in many respects a different and a happier life," he silently reflected.
I am not sure, and John was not sure, that this lurking regret might not have been half-revealed to the gentlewoman on the opposite side of the hearth, by the sigh which accompanied it. At any rate, she said, with a half-smile,—
"Think of me for the little while we are together as a sister."
"I will indeed," said Tincroft.
"Allow me then to ask—you said a minute or two ago that your intentions are honourable and friendly—allow me to ask you to confide those intentions to me."
And John did. He told his whole story from beginning to end. He stammered awkwardly at first, perhaps; but he gained courage as he went on. He did not spare himself in the least. He painted himself in darker colours, or, at least, he placed himself in a more preposterous light than that in which we have represented him. He declared himself so heartily ashamed of his folly in that last month of his sojourn at the Manor House, that his fair auditor had to check his self-accusations. On the other hand, he warmly vindicated poor Sarah from any intentional or unintentional cause for real blame; while, with much good feeling, he described the unhappy circumstances by which she had been and was still surrounded—her wretched home, her unkind relatives at Low Beech, the scandal-loving and scandal-breathing social atmosphere of the place, and a great deal more of the same sort.
"I am come," said John, "to say all this to Walter Wilson. I have made up my mind, of course, to hear myself harshly abused, because I really deserve to be abused by him. I will submit to any mortifications and humiliations he may see fit to demand from me. I will do anything in my power—and I wish more were in my power-if only the mischief I have so foolishly and wrongfully done may be remedied. I hope you believe me in this, Miss Burgess," he added.
"I believe you to be sincere and honest in all you have said," the lady responded; "and now I will be open and candid with you. It is an unusual course I am taking, perhaps, and I suppose the polite world with which you are acquainted—"
"Not a bit of it," thought John.