s
by the ladies' maids. The result of such an essentially debased state
of feeling as this was not slow in declaring itself. But for a lucky
accident, Mr. Cosway would have discovered to what extremities of
ill-bred curiosity idleness and folly can lead persons holding the
position of ladies and gentlemen, when he joined the company at
breakfast on the next morning.

The newspapers came in before the guests had risen from the table. Sir
Peter handed one of them to the lady who sat on his right hand.

She first looked, it is needless to say, at the list of births, deaths,
and marriages; and then she turned to the general news--the fires,
accidents, fashionable departures, and so on. In a few minutes, she
indignantly dropped the newspaper in her lap.

"Here is another unfortunate man," she exclaimed, "sacrificed to the
stupidity of women! If I had been in his place, I would have used my
knowledge of swimming to save myself, and would have left the women to
go to the bottom of the river as they deserved!"

"A boat accident, I suppose?" said Sir Peter.

"Oh yes--the old story. A gentleman takes two ladies out in a boat.
After a while they get fidgety, and feel an idiotic impulse to change
places. The boat upsets as usual; the poor dear man tries to save
them--and is drowned along with them for his pains. Shameful! shameful!"

"Are the names mentioned?"

"Yes. They are all strangers to me; I speak on principle." Asserting
herself in those words, the indignant lady handed the newspaper to Mr.
Cosway, who happened to sit next to her. "When you were in the navy,"
she continued, "I dare say _your_ life was put in jeopardy by taking
women in boats. Read it yourself, and let it be a warning to you for the
future."

Mr. Cosway looked at the narrative of the accident--and revealed the
romantic mystery of his life by a burst of devout exclamation, expressed
in the words:

"Thank God, my wife's drowned!"

II.

To declare that Sir Peter and his guests were all struck speechless,
by discovering in this way that Mr. Cosway was a married man, is to say
very little. The general impression appeared to be that he was mad. His
neighbors at the table all drew back from him, with the one exception of
his friend. Mr. Stone looked at the newspaper: pressed Mr. Cosway's hand
in silent sympathy--and addressed himself to his host.

"Permit me to make my friend's apologies," he said, "until he is composed
enough to act for himself. Th