ot take to his heart number two. I am bound to
say, that when I expressed these opinions to Mrs. Laura, she was more
angry and provoked than ever.

It is in the nature of such a simple soul as Thomas Newcome, to see but
one side of a question, and having once fixed Ethel's worldliness in his
mind, and her brother's treason, to allow no argument of advocates of
the other side to shake his displeasure. Hence the one or two appeals
which Laura ventured to make on behalf of her friend, were checked by
the good Colonel with a stern negation. If Ethel was not guiltless, she
could not make him see at least that she was not guilty. He dashed away
all excuses and palliations. Exasperated as he was, he persisted in
regarding the poor girl's conduct in its most unfavourable light. "She
was rejected, and deservedly rejected, by the Marquis of Farintosh," he
broke out to me once, who was not indeed authorised to tell all I knew
regarding the story; "the whole town knows it; all the clubs ring with
it. I blush, sir, to think that my brother's child should have brought
such a stain upon our name." In vain, I told him that my wife, who
knew all the circumstances much better, judged Miss Newcome far more
favourably, and indeed greatly esteemed and loved her. "Pshaw! sir,"
breaks out the indignant Colonel, "your wife is an innocent creature,
who does not know the world as we men of experience do,--as I do, sir;"
and would have no more of the discussion. There is no doubt about it,
there was a coolness between my old friend's father and us.

As for Barnes Newcome, we gave up that worthy, and the Colonel showed
him no mercy. He recalled words used by Warrington, which I have
recorded in a former page, and vowed that he only watched for an
opportunity to crush the miserable reptile. He hated Barnes as a
loathsome traitor, coward, and criminal; he made no secret of his
opinion; and Clive, with the remembrance of former injuries, of dreadful
heart-pangs; the inheritor of his father's blood, his honesty of nature,
and his impetuous enmity against wrong; shared to the full his sire's
antipathy against his cousin, and publicly expressed his scorn and
contempt for him. About Ethel he would not speak. "Perhaps what you
say, Pen, is true," he said. "I hope it is. Pray God it is." But his
quivering lips and fierce countenance, when her name was mentioned or
her defence attempted, showed that he too had come to think ill of her.
"As for her brother,