t wont to be afraid.
You say that you admire my husband: in his name, be honest.'

'I admire your courage,' said the Baronet. 'Beyond that, as you have
guessed, and indeed said, our natures are not sympathetic.'

'You spoke of scandal,' pursued Seraphina. 'Was the scandal great?'

'It was considerable,' said Sir John.

'And you believed it?' she demanded.

'O, madam,' said Sir John, 'the question!'

'Thank you for that answer!' cried Seraphina. 'And now here, I will tell
you, upon my honour, upon my soul, in spite of all the scandal in this
world, I am as true a wife as ever stood.'

'We should probably not agree upon a definition,' observed Sir John.

'O!' she cried, 'I have abominably used him--I know that; it is not that
I mean. But if you admire my husband, I insist that you shall understand
me: I can look him in the face without a blush.'

'It may be, madam,' said Sir John; 'nor have I presumed to think the
contrary.'

'You will not believe me?' she cried. 'You think I am a guilty wife?
You think he was my lover?'

'Madam,' returned the Baronet, 'when I tore up my papers, I promised your
good husband to concern myself no more with your affairs; and I assure
you for the last time that I have no desire to judge you.'

'But you will not acquit me! Ah!' she cried, '_he_ will--he knows me
better!'

Sir John smiled.

'You smile at my distress?' asked Seraphina.

'At your woman's coolness,' said Sir John. 'A man would scarce have had
the courage of that cry, which was, for all that, very natural, and I
make no doubt quite true. But remark, madam--since you do me the honour
to consult me gravely--I have no pity for what you call your distresses.
You have been completely selfish, and now reap the consequence. Had you
once thought of your husband, instead of singly thinking of yourself, you
would not now have been alone, a fugitive, with blood upon your hands,
and hearing from a morose old Englishman truth more bitter than scandal.'

'I thank you,' she said, quivering. 'This is very true. Will you stop
the carriage?'

'No, child,' said Sir John, 'not until I see you mistress of yourself.'

There was a long pause, during which the carriage rolled by rock and
woodland.

'And now,' she resumed, with perfect steadiness, 'will you consider me
composed? I request you, as a gentleman, to let me out.'

'I think you do unwisely,' he replied. 'Continue, if you please, to use
my carriage.'

'Sir