me she was a sister of--, and no doubt that is the
truth."

"A sister of whom?"

"No matter: don't remind me of the past; it is odious to me; and, on
second thoughts, rather than stir up all that mud, it would be better
not to use the anonymous letter, even if you could get it again."

Lady Bassett begged him to take advice on that; meantime she would try
to get the letter, and also the evidence that Richard Bassett wrote it.

"I see no harm in that," said Sir Charles; "only confine your
communication to Mr. Oldfield. I will not have you speaking or writing
to a woman I don't know: and the more I think of her conduct the less I
understand it."

"There are people who do good by stealth," suggested Bella timidly.

"Fiddledeedee!" replied Sir Charles; "you are a goose--I mean an
angel."

Lady Bassett complied with the letter, but, goose or not, evaded the
spirit of Sir Charles's command with considerable dexterity.

"DEAR MR. OLDFIELD--You may guess what trouble I am in. Sir Charles
will soon have to appear in open court, and be talked against by some
great orator. That anonymous letter Mr. Bassett wrote me was very base,
and is surely some justification of the violent epithets my dear
husband, in an unhappy moment of irritation, has applied to him. The
brave lady has it. I am sure she will not refuse to send it me. I wish
I dare ask her to give it me with her own hand; but I must not, I
suppose. Pray tell her how unhappy I am, and perhaps she will favor us
with a word of advice as well as the letter.

"I remain, yours faithfully,

"BELLA BASSETT."

This letter was written at the brave lady; and Mr. Oldfield did what
was expected, he sent Miss Somerset a copy of Lady Bassett's letter,
and some lines in his own hand, describing Sir Charles's difficulty in
a more businesslike way.

In due course Miss Somerset wrote him back that she was in the country,
hunting, at no very great distance from Huntercombe Hall; she would
sent up to town for her desk; the letter would be there, if she had
kept it at all.

Oldfield groaned at this cool conjecture, and wrote back directly,
urging expedition.

This produced an effect that he had not anticipated.

One morning Lord Harrowdale's foxhounds met at a large covert, about
five miles from Huntercombe, and Sir Charles told Lady Bassett she must
ride to cover.

"Yes, dear. Charles, love, I have no spirit to appear in public. We
shall soon have publicity enough."