e you of the Staffordshire Davises? or do
you belong to the Davises of such a place?'"

"If she should, I can only reply that I don't know," said Lizzy.

"Oh! but you must n't say that," laughed out Beecher, who felt a sort of
triumph over what he regarded as his wife's simplicity.

"You would not, surely, have me say that I was related to these people?"

"No, not exactly that; but, still, to say that you didn't know whether
you were or not, would be a terrible blunder! It would amount to a
confession that you were Davises of nowhere at all."

"Which is about the truth, perhaps," said she, in the same tone.

"Oh! truth is a very nice thing, but not always pleasant to tell."

"But don't you think you could save me from an examination in which I am
so certain to acquit myself ill, by simply stating that you have married
a person without rank, station, or fortune? These facts once
understood, I feel certain that her Ladyship will never allude to them
unpleasantly."

"Then there 's another point," said Beecher, evidently piqued that he
had not succeeded in irritating her,--"there 's another point, and you
must be especially careful about it,--never, by any chance, let out that
you were educated at a school, or a pensionnat, or whatever they call
it. If there 's anything she cannot abide, it is the thought of a girl
brought up at a school; mind, therefore, only say, 'my governess.'"

She smiled and was silent.

"Then she'll ask you if you had been 'out,' and when you were presented,
and who presented you. She 'll do it so quietly and so naturally, you 'd
never guess that she meant any impertinence by it."

"So much the better, for I shall not feel offended."

"As to the drawing-room," rejoined Beecher, "you must say that you
always lived very retiredly,--never came up to town; that your father
saw very little company."

"Is not this Chiavenna we 're coming to?" asked Lizzy, a slight--but
very slight--flush rising to her cheek. And now the loud cracking of
the postilions' whips drowned all other sounds as the horses tore along
through the narrow streets, making the frail old houses rock and shiver
as they passed. A miserable-looking vetturino carriage stood at the inn
door, and was dragged hastily out of the way to make room for the more
pretentious equipage. Scarcely had the courier got down than the whole
retinue of the inn was in motion, eagerly asking if "Milordo" would not
alight, if his "Eccellenza" would