ds the
bookstall, and Bozzle, with his eyes fixed on a copy of the "D. R."
which he had just bought, was straining his ears to the utmost to
catch what was being said.

"You best know whether you have seen her or not."

"I have seen her."

"Then I shall take leave to tell you, Colonel Osborne, that you have
acted in a most unfriendly way, and have done that which must tend to
keep an affectionate husband apart from his wife."

"Sir, I don't at all understand this kind of thing addressed to me.
The father of the lady you are speaking of has been my most intimate
friend for thirty years." After all, the Colonel was a mean man when
he could take pride in his youth, and defend himself on the score of
his age, in one and the same proceeding.

"I have nothing further to say," replied Stanbury.

"You have said too much already, Mr. Stanbury."

"I think not, Colonel Osborne. You have, I fear, done an incredible
deal of mischief by going to Nuncombe Putney; and, after all that
you have heard on the subject, you must have known that it would be
mischievous. I cannot understand how you can force yourself about a
man's wife against the man's expressed wish."

"Sir, I didn't force myself upon anybody. Sir, I went down to see an
old friend,--and a remarkable piece of antiquity. And, when another
old friend was in the neighbourhood, close by,--one of the oldest
friends I have in the world,--wasn't I to go and see her? God bless
my soul! What business is it of yours? I never heard such impudence
in my life!" Let the charitable reader suppose that Colonel Osborne
did not know that he was lying,--that he really thought, when he
spoke, that he had gone down to Lessboro' to see the remarkable piece
of antiquity.

"Good morning," said Hugh Stanbury, turning on his heels and walking
away. Colonel Osborne shook himself, inflated his cheeks, and blew
forth the breath out of his mouth, put his thumbs up to the armholes
of his waistcoat, and walked about the platform as though he thought
it to be incumbent on him to show that he was somebody,--somebody
that ought not to be insulted,--somebody, perhaps, whom a very pretty
woman might prefer to her own husband, in spite of a small difference
in age. He was angry, but not quite so much angry as proud. And he
was safe, too. He thought that he was safe. When he should come to
account for himself and his actions to his old friend, Sir Marmaduke,
he felt that he would be able to show that h