ing about in her grim pursuit of pleasure. Lady
Julia, we are led to believe, had retired upon half-pay, and into an
inglorious exile at Brussels, with her sister, the outlaw's wife, by
whose bankrupt fireside she was perfectly happy. Miss Newcome was now
her grandmother's companion, and they had been on a tour of visits in
Scotland, and were journeying from country-house to country-house about
the time when our good Colonel returned to his native shores.

The Colonel loved his nephew Barnes no better than before, perhaps,
though we must say that since his return from India the young Baronet's
conduct had been particularly friendly. "No doubt marriage had improved
him; Lady Clara seemed a good-natured young woman enough; besides," says
the Colonel, wagging his good old head knowingly, "Tom Newcome, of the
Bundelcund Bank, is a personage to be conciliated; whereas Tom Newcome,
of the Bengal Cavalry, was not worth Master Barnes's attention. He
has been very good and kind on the whole; so have his friends been
uncommonly civil. There was Clive's acquaintance, Mr. Belsize that was,
Lord Highgate who is now, entertained our whole family sumptuously last
week--wants us and Barnes and his wife to go to his country-house at
Christmas--is as hospitable, my dear Mrs. Pendennis, as man can be. He
met you at Barnes's, and as soon as we are alone," says the Colonel,
turning round to Laura's husband, "I will tell you in what terms Lady
Clara speaks of your wife. Yes. She is a good-natured, kind little
woman, that Lady Clara." Here Laura's face assumed that gravity and
severeness, which it always wore when Lady Clara's name was mentioned,
and the conversation took another turn.

Returning home from London one afternoon, I met the Colonel, who hailed
me on the omnibus, and rode on his way towards the City, I knew, of
course, that he had been colloquying with my wife; and taxed that young
woman with these continued flirtations. "Two or three times a week,
Mrs. Laura, you dare to receive a Colonel of Dragoons. You sit for hours
closeted with the young fellow of sixty; you change the conversation
when your own injured husband enters the room, and pretend to talk about
the weather, or the baby. You little arch hypocrite, you know you do.
Don't try to humbug me, miss; what will Richmond, what will society,
what will Mrs. Grundy in general say to such atrocious behaviour?"

"Oh! Pen," says my wife, closing my mouth in a way which I do not