listeners than the judge when my turn
came.

"I won't give you the lie, Quinby, because I am quite sure you don't
know you are telling one," said I; "but as a matter of fact you are
giving currency to two. In the first place, this lady is Mrs. Lascelles,
for the major did marry her; in the second place, Major Lascelles is
dead."

"And how do you know?" inquired Quinby, with a touch of genuine surprise
to mitigate an insolent disbelief.

"You forget," said I, "that it was in India I knew your own informant. I
can only say that my information in all this matter is a good deal
better than his. I knew Mrs. Lascelles herself quite well out there; I
knew the other side of her case. It doesn't seem to have struck you,
Quinby, that such a woman must have suffered a good deal before, and
after, taking such a step. Or I don't suppose you would have spread
yourself to make her suffer a little more,"

And I still consider that a charitable view of his behaviour; but Quinby
was of another opinion, which he expressed with his offensive little
laugh as he lifted his long body from the settee.

"This is what one gets for securing a room for a man one doesn't know!"
said he.

"On the contrary," I retorted, "I haven't forgotten that, and I have
saved you something because of it. I happen to have saved you no less
than a severe thrashing from a stronger man than myself, who is even
more indignant with you than I am, and who wanted to borrow one of my
sticks for the purpose!"

"And it would have served him perfectly right," was the old judge's
comment, when the mischief-maker had departed without returning my
parting shot. "I suppose you meant young Evers, Captain Clephane?"

"I did indeed, Sir John. I had to tell him the truth in order to
restrain him."

The old judge raised his eyebrows.

"Then you hadn't to tell him it before? You are certainly consistent,
and I rather admire your position as regards the lady. But I am not so
sure that it was altogether fair toward the lad. It is one thing to
stand up for the poor soul, my dear sir, but it would be another thing
to let a nice boy like that go and marry her!"

So that was the opinion of this ripe old citizen of the world! It ought
not to have irritated me as it did. It would be Catherine's opinion, of
course; but a dispassionate view was not to be expected from her. I had
not hitherto thought otherwise, myself; but now I experienced a perverse
inclination to take the oppos