and to
request that you will not interrupt me. Now oblige me by going to bed."

But getting in was everything; and a young and pretty wife, in dishabille
and in tears, imploring, entreating, conjuring, promising, coaxing, and
fondling, is not quite so easy to be detached when once she has gained
access. In less than half an hour Mr Sullivan was obliged to confess that
her conduct had been the occasion of a meeting being agreed upon for that
morning, and that he was arranging his affairs in case of a melancholy
termination.

"You now, Mary, must see the consequences of your conduct. By your
imprudence, your husband's life is risked, probably sacrificed; but this is
no time to be at variance. I forgive you, Mary--from my soul I do, as I
hope for pardon myself."

Mrs Sullivan burst into a paroxysm of tears; and it was some time before
she could answer. "William," cried she, energetically, "as you well say,
this is no time to be at variance, neither is it a time for falsehood. What
I stated to you this morning was true;--if not, may I never hope for
pardon! and may heaven never be opened to me! You have been
deceived--grossly deceived; for what purpose, I know not: but so it is. Do
not, therefore, be rash. Send for all who were present, and examine them;
and if I have told you a falsehood, put me away from you, to the shame and
seclusion I shall so well deserve."

"It is too late, Mary; I have challenged him, and he has accepted it. I
fain would believe you; but he told me so himself."

"Then he told a lie! a base, cowardly lie! which sinks him beneath the
notice of a gentleman. Let me go with you and confront him. Only let him
dare to say it to my face; 'tis all I ask, William, that I may clear my
fame with you. Come to bed--nay, nay, don't refuse me," and poor Mrs
Sullivan again burst into tears.

We must leave the couple to pass the remaining hours in misery, which,
however, reclaimed them both from faults. Mrs Sullivan never coquetted
more; and her husband was, after this, never jealous but on trifles.

The colonel was just as busy on his side in preparing for the chances of
the morrow: these chances, however, were never tried; for Captain
Carrington and his confederates had made their arrangements. Mr Sullivan
was already dressed, his wife clinging to him in frantic despair, when a
letter was left at his door, the purport of which was that Colonel Ellice
had discovered that his companions had been joking with hi