But Mrs. Dinnett was too preoccupied with her own affairs to feel interest in Ernest’s pleasant little experience.  By nature pessimistic, original doubts, when she heard of Sabina’s engagement, were now confirmed and she felt certain that her daughter would never become young Ironsyde’s wife.  Regardless of the girl’s injunction to silence, and feeling that both for herself and Sabina this disaster might alter the course of their lives and bring her own hairs with sorrow to the grave, Mary now took the first opportunity to relate the facts to Mr. Churchouse.  They created in him emotions of such deep concern that neither his book nor his newspaper were opened on the day of the announcement.

Mrs. Dinnett rambled through her disastrous recital, declared that for her own part, she had already accepted the horror of it and was prepared to face the worst that could happen, and went so far as to predict what Ernest himself would probably do, now that the scandal had reached his ears.  She was distraught and for the moment appeared almost to revel in the accumulated horrors of the situation.

She told the story of promise and betrayal and summed up with one agonised prophecy.

“And now you’ll cast her out—­you’ll turn upon us and throw us out—­I know you will.”

“‘Cast her out’?  Good God of Mercy!  Who am I to cast anybody out, Missis Dinnett?  Shall an elderly and faulty fellow creature rise in judgment at the weakness of youth?  What have I done in the past to lead you to any such conclusion?  I feel very certain, indeed, that you are permitting yourself a debauch of misery—­wallowing in it, Mary Dinnett—­as misguided wretches often wallow in drink out of an unmanly despair at their own human weakness.  Fortify yourself!  Approach the question on a higher plane.  Remember no sparrow falls to the ground without the cognisance of its Creator!  As for Sabina, I love her and have devoted many hours to her education.  I also love Raymond Ironsyde—­for his own sake as well as his family’s.  I am perfectly certain that you exaggerate the facts.  Such a thing is quite incredible.  Shall I quarrel with a gracious flower because a wandering bee has set a seed?  He may be an inconsiderate and greedy bee—­but—­”

Mr. Churchouse broke off, conscious that his simile would land him in difficulties.

“No,” he said, “we must not pursue this subject on a pagan or poetical basis.  We are dealing with two young Christians, Missis Dinnett—­a man and a woman of good nurture and high principle.  I will never believe—­not if he said it himself—­that Raymond Ironsyde would commit any such unheard-of outrage.  You say that he has promised to marry her.  That is enough for me.  The son of Henry Ironsyde will keep his promise.  Be sure of that.  For the moment leave the rest in my hands.  Exercise discretion, and pray, pray keep silence about it.  I do trust that nobody has heard anything.  Publicity might complicate the situation seriously.”