the duty of
obedience as promised at the altar. "But I didn't promise to tell a
lie," said Mrs. Trevelyan. And there were interviews between Lady
Milborough and Trevelyan, and interviews between Lady Milborough and
Nora Rowley. The poor dear old dowager was exceedingly busy and full
of groans, prescribing Naples, prescribing a course of extra prayers,
prescribing a general course of letting by-gones be by-gones,--to
which, however, Trevelyan would by no means assent without some
assurance, which he might regard as a guarantee,--prescribing
retirement to a small town in the west of France if Naples would not
suffice; but she could effect nothing.

Mrs. Trevelyan, indeed, did a thing which was sure of itself to
render any steps taken for a reconciliation ineffectual. In the midst
of all this turmoil,--while she and her husband were still living in
the same house, but apart because of their absurd quarrel respecting
Colonel Osborne, she wrote another letter to that gentleman. The
argument by which she justified this to herself, and to her sister
after it was done, was the real propriety of her own conduct
throughout her whole intimacy with Colonel Osborne. "But that is
just what Louis doesn't want you to do," Nora had said, filled with
anger and dismay. "Then let Louis give me an order to that effect,
and behave to me like a husband, and I will obey him," Emily had
answered. And she had gone on to plead that in her present condition
she was under no orders from her husband. She was left to judge for
herself, and,--judging for herself,--she knew, as she said, that it
was best that she should write to Colonel Osborne. Unfortunately
there was no ground for hoping that Colonel Osborne was ignorant
of this insane jealousy on the part of her husband. It was better,
therefore, she said, that she should write to him,--whom on the
occasion she took care to name to her sister as "papa's old
friend,"--and explain to him what she would wish him to do, and what
not to do. Colonel Osborne answered the letter very quickly, throwing
much more of demonstrative affection than he should have done into
his "Dear Emily," and his "Dearest Friend." Of course Mrs. Trevelyan
had burned this answer, and of course Mr. Trevelyan had been told of
the correspondence. His wife, indeed, had been especially careful
that there should be nothing secret about the matter,--that it should
be so known in the house that Mr. Trevelyan should be sure to hear
of