your excellent father did. I had the truest respect and friendship for him. He was a fine specimen of a man."
"He was—he was, Mr. Twisden. I believe, at this moment, I should think all mankind vile if I did not remember him."
He looked at her keenly from under his shaggy grey eyebrows. What did this portend? He cleared his throat, and said slowly—
"You are too young to be a pessimist; but you can't think of your father too highly. You may depend on it that, as his daughter, you will always find a true friend in me. I am glad you have come, and alone. I can talk to you more freely than if your uncle or any one were with you. He tells me you are engaged to be married, and—"
"That engagement is at an end, Mr. Twisden."
"Indeed?" He paused. "Well, I cannot say I am sorry to hear it. You are full young to marry."
They exchanged swift glances, like the clash of two rapiers crossing. Then she said quickly—
"Have you any other reason for being glad?"
"If you will tell me first whether your affections were very deeply engaged in this affair, I will answer your question."
"My affections were not deeply engaged. I may have thought so for a few hours. I was mistaken, like many another idiot. My only feeling for Colonel Wybrowe now is—abhorrence."
"I may then speak freely. I have heard a good deal about the gentleman, and nothing to his credit. When I learnt of your engagement I was distressed, and cast
