at the same time various. Some declared that he put a pistol to Mr.
George's ear, and under pressure of that persuader got him into the
presence of a clergyman, when he turned sulky; and when the pistol was
again produced, the ceremony would have been performed, had not the
outraged Church cried out for help. Some vowed that Mr. George had
referred all questions implying a difference between himself and Mel to
their mutual fists for decision. At any rate, Mr. George turned up in
Fallow field subsequently; the fair Louisa, unhurt and with a quiet
mind, in Lymport; and this amount of truth the rumours can be reduced
to--that Louisa and Mr. George had been acquainted. Rumour and gossip
know how to build: they always have some solid foundation, however
small. Upwards of twelve years had run since Louisa went to the wife of
the brewer--a period quite long enough for Mr. George to forget any one
in; and she was altogether a different creature; and, as it was true
that Mr. George was a dull one, she was, after the test she had put
him to, justified in hoping that Mel's progeny might pass unchallenged
anywhere out of Lymport. So, with Mr. George facing her at table, the
Countess sat down, determined to eat and be happy.

A man with the education and tastes of a young country squire is not
likely to know much of the character of women; and of the marvellous
power they have of throwing a veil of oblivion between themselves and
what they don't want to remember, few men know much. Mr. George had
thought, when he saw Mrs. Strike leaning to Evan, and heard she was
a Harrington, that she was rather like the Lymport family; but the
reappearance of Mrs. Strike, the attention of the Duke of Belfield to
her, and the splendid tactics of the Countess, which had extinguished
every thought in the thought of himself, drove Lymport out of his mind.

There were some dinner guests at the table-people of Fallow field,
Beckley, and Bodley. The Countess had the diplomatist on one side, the
Duke on the other. Caroline was under the charge of Sir Franks. The
Countess, almost revelling in her position opposite Mr. George, was
ambitious to lead the conversation, and commenced, smiling at Melville:

'We are to be spared politics to-day? I think politics and cookery do
not assimilate.'

'I'm afraid you won't teach the true Briton to agree with you,' said
Melville, shaking his head over the sums involved by this British
propensity.

'No,' said Seymo