an affray with Rashleigh and his other
cousins over the wine-cups in the evening, in which swords were drawn
and blows given.

The next morning, however, Miss Vernon called him to account.

"Upon my word, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone," she said, seating herself in
one of the great chairs in the library, like a judge upon the bench,
"your character improves upon us. Last night's performance was a
masterpiece. You contrived to exhibit in the course of one evening all
the various qualifications of your several cousins--the gentle and
generous temper of Rashleigh, the temperance of Percie, the cool courage
of Thorncliff, John's skill in dog-breaking, Dickon's aptitude for
betting--all these were exhibited by the same Mr. Francis, and with a
choice of time and place worthy of the taste and sagacity of Wilfred."

Frank expressed his shame and sorrow as best he could. He had been
troubled, he said, by some information that he had received.

Instantly Miss Vernon took him up.

"And now," she said, "please tell me instantly what it was that
Rashleigh said of me--I have a right to know and know I will!"

It was some time before Frank could bring himself to tell Diana what her
cousin had really hinted concerning herself, and when she heard that he
had affirmed her wish to marry him in preference to Thorncliff, she
shuddered from head to foot.

"No," she cried, all her soul instantly on fire, "any lot rather than
that--the sot, the gambler, the bully, the jockey, the insensate fool
were a thousand times preferable to Rashleigh! But the convent, the
jail--the grave--shall be welcome before them all!"

INTERLUDE OF DISCUSSION

At the abrupt close of the story the children
looked not a little surprised, nor did they
manifest their usual eagerness to rush out of doors
and instantly to reduce the tale to action.

The first difficulty was as to who the real
highwayman could be.

"Did Frank _really_ take the man's bag with the
money and things?" ventured Maid Margaret, a little
timidly. She knew that she would be promptly
contradicted.

"No, of course not," shouted Hugh John, "it was the
Scotch drover, Campbell,--for how else could he
know so well about it? Of course it was--_I_ knew
it from the first."

Meantime Sweetheart had been musing deeply.

"Do you know," she said gently, "I am most of all
sorry for Die Vernon. I don't think that I want to