"There was no need for giving him any hand at all. He is just a person we know nothing about—what his family is, if he belongs to anybody," Miss Margaret said.
"But we know him," said Lilias, with that perfectly inconclusive argument which sounds so powerful to the foolish speaker, but which in reality means nothing.
Margaret was full of irritation and annoyance, and a sense of danger to come.
"What does that matter?" she cried. "Him! We know no harm of him, if that is what you mean. But his belongings are unknown to me, and with a man of his name, that cannot be but harm. If it was one of your English names, it might just be any ignoramus: but there is no good Murray that has not a drop's blood, as people say, between him and Murkley. I will have no traffic with that young man."
"But he came to us at home!" said Lilias, in great surprise, "and I saw him—often."
"Where did you see him, you silly thing? Twice, thrice, at the utmost!"
"Oh, Margaret! I used to see him with Katie. Katie was always about the park, you know; and he was so fond of the new castle, and always making sketches——"
Margaret looked at her with severe eyes. And indeed Lilias, who had revealed perhaps more than was expedient, coloured, and was embarrassed by her observation, though she indignantly declared to herself that there was "no cause."
"So you saw him—often?" the elder sister said. "This is news to me—and the more reason we should see nothing of him now; for a young man that will thrust himself upon a girl's company when she is out of the protection of her friends——"
"Margaret!" cried Lilias, with a flash of indignation. "Are you going to leave Jean behind?" she added, hastily, in a voice of horror, as Margaret, instead of turning back at the end of the walk, hurriedly directed her steps homeward, crossing with haste and trepidation the much crowded road.