stead of the
satisfactory reflex of the man who had, and was happy in thinking that
he had, done mischief in his time. Such an end for a conquering man was
too pathetic.

The General surprised himself talking to himself in something louder
than a hum at neighbours' dinner-tables. He looked about and noticed
that people were silently watching him.

CHAPTER VII

Lady Camper's return was the subject of speculation in the
neighbourhood, for most people thought she would cease to persecute the
General with her preposterous and unwarrantable pen-and-ink sketches
when living so closely proximate; and how he would behave was the
question. Those who made a hero of him were sure he would treat her
with disdain. Others were uncertain. He had been so severely hit that it
seemed possible he would not show much spirit.

He, for his part, had come to entertain such dread of the post, that
Lady Camper's return relieved him of his morning apprehensions; and he
would have forgiven her, though he feared to see her, if only she had
promised to leave him in peace for the future. He feared to see
her, because of the too probable furnishing of fresh matter for her
ladyship's hand. Of course he could not avoid being seen by her, and
that was a particular misery. A gentlemanly humility, or demureness
of aspect, when seen, would, he hoped, disarm his enemy. It should,
he thought. He had borne unheard-of things. No one of his friends and
acquaintances knew, they could not know, what he had endured. It has
caused him fits of stammering. It had destroyed the composure of his
gait. Elizabeth had informed him that he talked to himself incessantly,
and aloud. She, poor child, looked pale too. She was evidently anxious
about him.

Young Rolles, whom he had met now and then, persisted in praising his
aunt's good heart. So, perhaps, having satiated her revenge, she might
now be inclined for peace, on the terms of distant civility.

'Yes! poor Elizabeth!' sighed the General, in pity of the poor girl's
disappointment; 'poor Elizabeth! she little guesses what her father has
gone through. Poor child! I say, she hasn't an idea of my sufferings.'

General Ople delivered his card at Lady Camper's lodgegates and escaped
to his residence in a state of prickly heat that required the brushing
of his hair with hard brushes for several minutes to comfort and
re-establish him.

He had fallen to working in his garden, when Lady Camper's card was
brough