about to deserve every word
they had said of her; which may instruct us, if you please, that gossips
have only to persist in lying to be crowned with verity, or that one has
only to endure evil mouths for a period to gain impunity. She was always
at the Abbey now. She was much closeted with the baronet. It seemed to be
understood that she had taken Mrs. Doria's place. Benson in his misogynic
soul perceived that she was taking Lady Feverel's: but any report
circulated by Benson was sure to meet discredit, and drew the gossips
upon himself; which made his meditations tragic. No sooner was one woman
defeated than another took the field! The object of the System was no
sooner safe than its great author was in danger!

"I can't think what has come to Benson" he said to Adrian.

"He seems to have received a fresh legacy of several pounds of lead,"
returned the wise youth, and imitating Dr. Clifford's manner. "Change is
what he wants! distraction! send him to Wales for a month, sir, and let
Richard go with him. The two victims of woman may do each other good."

"Unfortunately I can't do without him," said the baronet.

"Then we must continue to have him on our shoulders all day, and on our
chests all night!" Adrian ejaculated.

"I think while he preserves this aspect we won't have him at the
dinner-table," said the baronet.

Adrian thought that would be a relief to their digestions; and added:
"You know, sir, what he says?"

Receiving a negative, Adrian delicately explained to him that Benson's
excessive ponderosity of demeanour was caused by anxiety for the safety
of his master.

"You must pardon a faithful fool, sir," he continued, for the baronet
became red, and exclaimed:

"His stupidity is past belief! I have absolutely to bolt my study-door
against him."

Adrian at once beheld a charming scene in the interior of the study, not
unlike one that Benson had visually witnessed. For, like a wary prophet,
Benson, that he might have warrant for what he foretold of the future,
had a care to spy upon the present: warned haply by The Pilgrim's Scrip,
of which he was a diligent reader, and which says, rather emphatically:
"Could we see Time's full face, we were wise of him." Now to see Time's
full face, it is sometimes necessary to look through keyholes, the
veteran having a trick of smiling peace to you on one cheek and grimacing
confusion on the other behind the curtain. Decency and a sense of honour
restrain most of