s there been anything very wrong, then, about my Aunt Bernstein?"
continued Harry, remembering how at home his mother had never spoken of
the Baroness.

"O sancta simplicitas!" the chaplain muttered to himself. "Stories, my
dear sir, much older than your time or mine. Stories such as were told
about everybody, de me, de te; you know with what degree of truth in
your own case."

"Confound the villain! I should like to hear any scoundrel say a word
against the dear old lady," cries the young gentleman. "Why, this world,
parson, is full of lies and scandal!"

"And you are just beginning to find it out, my dear sir," cries the
clergyman, with his most beatified air. "Whose character has not been
attacked? My lord's, yours, mine,--every one's. We must bear as well as
we can, and pardon to the utmost of our power."

"You may. It's your cloth, you know; but, by George, I won't!" cries Mr.
Warrington, and again goes down the fist with a thump on the table. "Let
any fellow say a word in my hearing against that dear old creature, and
I'll pull his nose, as sure as my name is Harry Esmond. How do you do,
Colonel Lambert? You find us late again, sir. Me and his reverence kept
it up pretty late with some of the young fellows, after the ladies
went away. I hope the dear ladies are well, sir?" and here Harry rose,
greeting his friend the Colonel very kindly, who had come to pay him
a morning visit, and had entered the room followed by Mr. Gumbo (the
latter preferred walking very leisurely about all the affairs of life),
just as Harry--suiting the action to the word--was tweaking the nose of
Calumny.

"The ladies are purely. Whose nose were you pulling when I came in, Mr.
Warrington?" says the Colonel, laughing.

"Isn't it a shame, sir? The parson, here, was telling me that there
are villains here who attack the character of my aunt, the Baroness of
Bernstein!"

"You don't mean to say so!" cries Mr. Lambert.

"I tell Mr. Harry that everybody is calumniated!" says the chaplain,
with a clerical intonation; but, at the same time, he looks at Colonel
Lambert and winks, as much as to say, "He knows nothing--keep him in the
dark."

The Colonel took the hint. "Yes," says he, "the jaws of slander are for
ever wagging. Witness that story about the dancing-girl, that we all
believed against you, Harry Warrington."

"What, all, sir?"

"No, not all. One didn't--Hetty didn't. You should have heard her
standing up for you, Harry, t'ot