n for years--engaged to a young
lady, a Miss--a Miss Thompson, if you will have the name, who lives
on Clapham Common--yes, on Clapham Common, not far from Mrs. Smirke's
house, what becomes of your story then about Smirke and Mrs. Pendennis?"

"Why did you not tell me this before?" asked the Doctor's wife.--"How
long have you known it?--How we all of us have been deceived in that
man!"

"Why should I meddle in other folks' business, my dear?" the Doctor
answered. "I know how to keep a secret--and perhaps this is only an
invention like that other absurd story; at least, Madame Portman, I
should never have told you this but for the other, which I beg you to
contradict whenever you hear it." And so saying the Doctor went away to
his study, and Mrs. Portman seeing that the day was a remarkably fine
one, thought she would take advantage of the weather and pay a few
visits.

The Doctor looking out of his study window saw the wife of his
bosom presently issue forth, attired in her best. She crossed the
Market-place, saluting the market-women right and left, and giving a
glance at the grocery and general emporium at the corner: then entering
London Street (formerly Hog Lane), she stopped for a minute at
Madame Fribsby's window, and looking at the fashions which hung up
there,--seemed hesitating whether she should enter; but she passed on
and never stopped again until she came to Mrs. Pybus's little green gate
and garden, through which she went to that lady's cottage.

There, of course, her husband lost sight of Mrs. Portman. "Oh, what a
long bow I have pulled," he said inwardly--"Goodness forgive me! and
shot my own flesh and blood. There must be no more tattling and scandal
about that house. I must stop it, and speak to Smirke. I'll ask him to
dinner this very day."

Having a sermon to compose, the Doctor sat down to that work, and was so
engaged in the composition, that he had not concluded it until near five
o'clock in the afternoon: when he stepped over to Mr. Smirke's lodgings,
to put his hospitable intentions, regarding that gentleman, into effect.
He reached Madame Fribsby's door, just as the Curate issued from it.

Mr. Smirke was magnificently dressed, and as he turned out his toes, he
showed a pair of elegant open-worked silk stockings and glossy pumps.
His white cravat was arranged in a splendid stiff tie, and his gold
shirt studs shone on his spotless linen. His hair was curled round his
fair temples. Had he b