ay from her. When Sir Marmaduke is
in England, you can see him, if you please."

"See him;--of course, I shall see him. And, by George, Louis
Trevelyan will have to see him, too! I shouldn't like to have to
stand up before Rowley if I had treated a daughter of his in such a
fashion. You know Rowley, of course?"

"Oh, yes; I know him."

"He's not the sort of man to bear this sort of thing. He'll about
tear Trevelyan in pieces if he gets hold of him. God bless my soul--"
the eyebrows went to work again,--"I never heard of such a thing in
all my life! Does he pay anything for them, Mr. Outhouse?"

This was dreadful to the poor clergyman. "That is a subject which
we surely need not discuss," said he. Then he remembered that
such speech on his part was like to a subterfuge, and he found it
necessary to put himself right. "I am repaid for the maintenance here
of my nieces, and the little boy, and their attendants. I do not know
why the question should be asked, but such is the fact."

"Then they are here by agreement between you and him?"

"No, sir; they are not. There is no such agreement. But I do not like
these interrogatives from a stranger as to matters which should be
private."

"You cannot wonder at my interest, Mr. Outhouse."

"You had better restrain it, sir, till Sir Marmaduke arrives. I shall
then wash my hands of the affair."

"And she is pretty well;--Emily, I mean?"

"Mrs. Trevelyan's health is good."

"Pray tell her though I could not--might not ask to see her, I came
to inquire after her the first moment that I was in London. Pray
tell her how much I feel for her;--but she will know that. When Sir
Marmaduke is here, of course, we shall meet. When she is once more
under her father's wing, she need not be restrained by any absurd
commands from a husband who has deserted her. At present, of course,
I do not ask to see her."

"Of course, you do not, Colonel Osborne."

"And give my love to Nora;--dear little Nora! There can be no reason
why she and I should not shake hands."

"I should prefer that it should not be so in this house," said the
clergyman, who was now standing,--in expectation that his unwelcome
guest would go.

"Very well;--so be it. But you will understand I could not be in
London without coming and asking after them." Then the Colonel at
last took his leave, and Mr. Outhouse was left to his solitude and
his sermons.

Mrs. Outhouse was very angry when she heard of the visit. "Me