“I think I could,” answered Hester, thinking whatever he had to say, the sooner it was said the better.

“Tell me,” he said suddenly then paused awkwardly. “Let me ask you first,” he resumed, “whether you are able to trust me a little. I am old enough to be your father—let me say your grandfather. Imagine I am your grandfather. In my soul I believe neither could wish you well more truly than I do myself. Will you trust me and tell me what there is between you and Mr. Vavasor?”

Hester was silent.

Before she had time to consider an answer, he resumed.

“I know,” he said, “ladies think such things are not to be talked about with gentlemen, but there are exceptions to every rule.” He paused, then spoke directly. “Are you engaged to Mr. Vavasor?”

“No,” answered Hester promptly.

“What is it, then? Are you going to be?”

“I don’t know—how can I say?” replied Hester.

“Thank God you are still free!”

“But why should you be so anxious about it?”

“Has he never said he loved you?” asked the major eagerly.

“No,” she said a little hurriedly. She felt instinctively it was best to answer directly. But her voice trembled a little, wondering whether though literally it was strictly true. “We are friends,” she added. “We trust each other a good deal.”

“Trust him with nothing, least of all your heart, my dear,” said the major earnestly. “He is not worthy of you.”

“Do you say that to flatter me or to disparage him?”

“Entirely to disparage him. I never flatter.”

“Major Marvel, you surely did not bring me out to say evil things of one of my best friends?” said Hester, growing angry.

“I certainly did—if the truth be evil—but only for your sake. The man is a nobody.”

“That only proves you do not know him. You would not speak so if you did.”

“I am sure I would have worse to say if I knew him better. It is you who do not know him. It astonishes me that sensible people like your father and mother let a fellow like that come prowling after you.”

“Major Marvel, if you are going to abuse my father and mother as well as Lord Gartley—” cried Hester, but he interrupted her.

“Ah, there it is!” he exclaimed. “Lord Gartley! I have no business to interfere—no more than your gardener or coachman—but to think of an angel like you in the arms of a—”

“Major Marvel!”

“I beg ten thousand pardons, cousin Hester! But I am so desperately in earnest I can’t pick and choose my phrases. Believe me, the man is not worthy of you.”

“As his friend I ask you, what do you have against him?”