s wife
that her lot in life had been very hard. When these calumnies about
her and Phineas Finn had reached his ears,--or his eyes,--as such
calumnies always will reach the ears and eyes of those whom they are
most capable of hurting, he had simply felt a desire to crush some
Quintus Slide, or the like, into powder for the offence. He had
received Phineas in his own house with all his old friendship. He had
even this morning been with the accused man as almost his closest
friend. But, nevertheless, there was creeping into his heart a sense
of the shame with which he would be afflicted, should the world
really be taught to believe that the man had been his sister's lover.
Lady Laura's distress on the present occasion was such as a wife
might show, or a girl weeping for her lover, or a mother for her son,
or a sister for a brother; but was extravagant and exaggerated in
regard to such friendship as might be presumed to exist between the
wife of Mr. Robert Kennedy and the member for Tankerville. He could
see that his wife felt this as he did, and he thought it necessary to
say something at once, that might force his sister to moderate at any
rate her language, if not her feelings. Two expressions of face were
natural to him; one eloquent of good humour, in which the reader
of countenances would find some promise of coming frolic;--and
the other, replete with anger, sometimes to the extent almost of
savagery. All those who were dependent on him were wont to watch his
face with care and sometimes with fear. When he was angry it would
almost seem that he was about to use personal violence on the object
of his wrath. At the present moment he was rather grieved than
enraged; but there came over his face that look of wrath with which
all who knew him were so well acquainted. "You cannot see him," he
said.

"Why not I, as well as you?"

"If you do not understand, I cannot tell you. But you must not see
him;--and you shall not."

"Who will hinder me?"

"If you put me to it, I will see that you are hindered. What is the
man to you that you should run the risk of evil tongues, for the sake
of visiting him in gaol? You cannot save his life,--though it may be
that you might endanger it."

"Oswald," she said very slowly, "I do not know that I am in any way
under your charge, or bound to submit to your orders."

"You are my sister."

"And I have loved you as a sister. How should it be possible that my
seeing him should endang