Come and see for yourself, man, whether I am
lying!"
Then it dawned upon me that the man had been talking from
innermost depths, that he was almost terrifyingly sincere.
"I must ask you to pardon me," said I, "for appearing to doubt
your good faith. You must attribute it to my entire
unfamiliarity with the terms of Evangelical piety."
He looked at me queerly for a moment, and then, in the quiet
tones of a man of the world, said, smiling pleasantly:
"Very many years ago I had the pleasure of knowing your
grandfather, the late baronet. May I say that you remind me of
him?"
I have never heard an apology more gracefully and tactfully
accepted. For an unregenerate second he had become the gallant
Rupert Mainwaring again, and showed me wherein might lie his
attraction.
"Pray be seated," said he, more gravely, "and allow me to
explain."
He unfolded his story. It was well, said he, that an outsider (I
an outsider in that familiar room!) should hear it. I was at
liberty to make it public. Indeed, publicity was what he
earnestly craved.
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