'She did not know my father was ignorant of it?'

'Not she. She does not know it to this day.' John sat thinking;
Arthur twirled the chair, then said, 'That is the fact. I suppose my
aunt had a nice story for you.'

'It agreed in the main with yours.'

'I was unlucky,' said Arthur, 'I meant to have brought her home before
my aunt and Theodora had any news of it. I could have got round them
that way, but somehow Theodora got scent of it, and wrote me a furious
letter, full of denunciation--two of them--they hunted me everywhere,
so I saw it was no use going there.'

'She is much hurt at your letter. I can see that she is, though she
tries to hide her feelings. She was looking quite pale when we came
home, and I can hardly bear to see the struggle to look composed when
you are mentioned.'

This evidently produced some compunction, but Arthur tried to get rid
of it. 'I am sure there was nothing to take to heart in it--was there,
John?'

'I don't know. She had burnt it without letting any one see it; and it
was only through my aunt that we learnt that she had received it.'

'Well! her temper is up, and I am sorry for it,' said Arthur.
'I forget what I said. I dare say it was no more than she deserved.
I got one of these remonstrances of hers at Wrangerton, on the day