r Alured. Sir Alured sighed and
said nothing. Certainly a terrible misfortune, and one which affected
more or less the whole family of Whartons!

"Do you mean to say that he was going to attack Arthur with a whip?"
asked John Fletcher.

"I only know that he was standing there with a whip in his hand,"
said Mr. Gresham.

"I think he would have had the worst of that."

"You would have laughed," said Arthur, "to see me walking
majestically along the High Street with a cudgel which Gresham had
just bought for me as being of the proper medium size. I don't doubt
he meant to have a fight. And then you should have seen the policeman
sloping over and putting himself in the way. I never quite understood
where that policeman came from."

"They are very well off for policemen in Silverbridge," said Gresham.
"They've always got them going about."

"He must be mad," said John.

"Poor unfortunate young woman!" said Mrs. Fletcher, holding up both
her hands. "I must say that I cannot but blame Mr. Wharton. If he had
been firm, it never would have come to that. I wonder whether he ever
sees him."

"Of course he does," said John. "Why shouldn't he see him? You'd see
him if he'd married a daughter of yours."

"Never!" exclaimed the old woman. "If I had had a child so lost to
all respect as that, I do not say that I would not have seen her.
Human nature might have prevailed. But I would never willingly have
put myself into contact with one who had so degraded me and mine."

"I shall be very anxious to know what Mr. Wharton does about his
money," said John.

Arthur allowed himself but a couple of days among his friends,
and then hurried up to London to take his seat. When there he was
astonished to find how many questions were asked him about "the row,"
and how much was known about it,--and at the same time how little
was really known. Everybody had heard that there had been a row, and
everybody knew that there had been a lady in the case. But there
seemed to be a general idea that the lady had been in some way
misused, and that Arthur Fletcher had come forward like a Paladin to
protect her. A letter had been written, and the husband, ogre-like,
had intercepted the letter. The lady was the most unfortunate of
human beings,--or would have been but for that consolation which she
must have in the constancy of her old lover. As to all these matters
the stories varied; but everybody was agreed on one point. All the
world knew tha