He let the breath slowly free, checked, curbed, the bearing rein upon
it all the way. He imagined he had found country innocence in London,
and for the moment stood aghast at it; could not see that it was her
trust in him, blindly, implicitly placed, against all knowledge of
the world. He stood for a gentleman in her eyes--that Apsley Manor,
the late Sir William Hewitt Traill, C.B., they all helped to conjure
the vision in her mind. She knew the world well enough in her gentle
way; but this man was a gentleman.
Yet he saw little of this and, in a broadness of heart, warned her.
"I say nothing for or against myself," he said, "and this has not
been put to you as a test; I want you to come, I really hope you'll
come. But you'd be foolish beyond words if you indiscriminately
accepted such an invitation from any man."
"I know that," she replied firmly.
"And you'll come?"
"Yes; I've said I would."
"Why do you make the exception?"
"Because I know you're a gentleman. I trust you implicitly."
That went to the heart of him--drove home--the words quivering where
they struck.
CHAPTER XIV
There was much ceremony when they departed--much French _politesse_,
and many charming little attentions were paid.
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