h she had
hitherto lived, there had been a consecutive period of more than
twenty years in which she had never seen this man whom she had known
all her life.

"That makes a difference, of course; and I don't mean to say anything
against him."

"I hope not, Lady Milborough, because we are all especially fond of
him." This was said with so much of purpose, that poor, dear old Lady
Milborough was stopped in her good work. She knew well the terrible
strait to which Augustus Poole had been brought with his wife,
although nobody supposed that Poole's wife had ever entertained a
wrong thought in her pretty little heart. Nevertheless he had been
compelled to break up his establishment, and take his wife to Naples,
because this horrid Colonel would make himself at home in Mrs.
Poole's drawing-room in Knightsbridge. Augustus Poole, with courage
enough to take any man by the beard, had taking by the beard been
possible, had found it impossible to dislodge the Colonel. He could
not do so without making a row which would have been disgraceful to
himself and injurious to his wife; and therefore he had taken Mrs.
Poole to Naples. Lady Milborough knew the whole story, and thought
that she foresaw that the same thing was about to happen in the
drawing-room in Curzon Street. When she attempted to say a word to
the wife, she found herself stopped. She could not go on in that
quarter after the reception with which the beginning of her word had
been met. But perhaps she might succeed better with the husband.
After all, her friendship was with the Trevelyan side, and not with
the Rowleys.

"My dear Louis," she said, "I want to speak a word to you. Come
here." And then she led him into a distant corner, Mrs. Trevelyan
watching her all the while, and guessing why her husband was thus
carried away. "I just want to give you a little hint, which I am sure
I believe is quite unnecessary," continued Lady Milborough. Then she
paused, but Trevelyan would not speak. She looked into his face, and
saw that it was black. But the man was the only child of her dearest
friend, and she persevered. "Do you know I don't quite like that
Colonel Osborne coming so much to your house." The face before her
became still blacker, but still the man said nothing. "I dare say it
is a prejudice on my part, but I have always disliked him. I think he
is a dangerous friend;--what I call a snake in the grass. And though
Emily's high good sense, and love for you, and gen