inst us. Now that is just what I
ought to be put up to, and must be put up to. Let me tell you in three
words what I was told last night."

"Go on, Ralph: speak as you please."

"Very good. First of all, I understand that you took a fancy to some
shopkeeper's daughter--so far, mind, I don't blame you: I've spent
time very pleasantly among the ladies of the counter myself. But in the
second place, I'm told that you actually married the girl! I don't
wish to be hard upon you, my good fellow, but there was an unparalleled
insanity about that act, worthier of a patient in Bedlam than of my
brother. I am not quite sure whether I understand exactly what virtuous
behaviour is; but if _that_ was virtuous behaviour--there! there! don't
look shocked. Let's have done with the marriage, and get on. Well, you
made the girl your wife; and then innocently consented to a very
queer condition of waiting a year for her (virtuous behaviour again, I
suppose!) At the end of that time--don't turn away your head, Basil! I
_may_ be a scamp; but I am not blackguard enough to make a joke--either
in your presence, or out of it--of this part of the story. I will pass
it over altogether, if you like; and only ask you a question or two. You
see, my father either could not or would not speak plainly of the worst
part of the business; and you know him well enough to know why. But
somebody must be a little explicit, or I can do nothing. About that man?
You found the scoundrel out? Did you get within arm's length of him?"

I told my brother of the struggle with Mannion in the Square.

He heard me almost with his former schoolboy delight, when I had
succeeded, to his satisfaction, in a feat of strength or activity. He
jumped off the bed, and seized both my hands in his strong grasp; his
face radiant, his eyes sparkling. "Shake hands, Basil! Shake hands, as
we haven't shaken hands yet: this makes amends for everything! One word
more, though, about that fellow; where is he now?"

"In the hospital."

Ralph laughed heartily, and jumped back on the bed. I remembered
Mannion's letter, and shuddered as I thought of it.

"The next question is about the girl," said my brother. "What has become
of her? Where was she all the time of your illness?"

"At her father's house; she is there still."

"Ah, yes! I see; the old story; innocent, of course. And her father
backs her, doesn't he? To be sure, that's the old story too. I have got
at our difficulty now; w