emotion as perfectly natural, joined her heartily, and added:--

"It's so, Mrs. Peyton; I'm glad I told you. You don't mind it, do you?"

But Mrs. Peyton had resumed her gravity, and perhaps a touch of her
previous misgivings.

"I should certainly be very sorry," she said, looking at him critically,
"to object to your sharing your old friendship for your little playmate
with her parents and guardians, or to your expressing it to THEM as
frankly as to her."

She saw the quick change in his mobile face and the momentary arrest of
its happy expression. She was frightened and yet puzzled. It was not the
sensitiveness of a lover at the mention of the loved one's name, and yet
it suggested an uneasy consciousness. If his previous impulsive outburst
had been prompted honestly, or even artfully, by his passion for Susy,
why had he looked so shocked when she spoke of her?

But Clarence, whose emotion had been caused by the sudden recall of his
knowledge of Susy's own disloyalty to the woman whose searching eyes
were upon him, in his revulsion against the deceit was, for an instant,
upon the point of divulging all. Perhaps, if Mrs. Peyton had shown more
confidence, he would have done so, and materially altered the evolution
of this story. But, happily, it is upon these slight human weaknesses
that your romancer depends, and Clarence, with no other reason than the
instinctive sympathy of youth with youth in its opposition to wisdom and
experience, let the opportunity pass, and took the responsibility of it
out of the hands of this chronicler.