"I will rely upon you then, Anna. Believe me, you could not choose a worse friend in all Helstonleigh, than Herbert Dare. I have your word?"
"Yes. And I have thine."
He placed her arm within his own, and led her to the back door of her house. Patience was standing at it. "I have brought you the little truant," he said.
"It is well thee hast," replied Patience. "I had just opened the door to come after her. Anna, thee art worse than a wild thing. Running off in this manner!"
It had not been in William's way to see much of Anna's inner qualities. He had not detected her deceit; he did not know that she could be untruthful when it suited her to be so. He had firm faith in her word, never questioning that it might be depended upon. Nevertheless, when he came afterwards to reflect upon the matter, he thought it might be his duty to give Patience a little word of caution. And this he could do without compromising Anna.
He contrived to see Patience alone the very next day. She began talking of their previous evening at the Ashleys'.
"Yes," observed William, "it was a pleasant evening. It would have been all the pleasanter, though, but for one who was there—Herbert Dare."
"I do not admire the Dares," said Patience frigidly.
"Nor I. But I observed one thing, Patience—that he admires Anna. Were Anna my sister, I should not like her to be too much admired by Herbert Dare. So take care of her."
Patience looked steadily at him. William continued, his tone confidential.