t about it," said Mr. Peacocke. "But still, under all the
circumstances, she had better not see you."

"Well, that's a queer beginning, anyway. But perhaps you'll come round
by-and-by. She goes by Mrs. Peacocke?"

"She is regarded as my wife," said the husband, feeling himself to become
more and more indignant at every word, but knowing at the same time how
necessary it was that he should keep his indignation hidden.

"Whether true or false?" asked the brother-in-law.

"I will answer no such question as that."

"You ain't very well disposed to answer any question, as far as I can see.
But I shall have to make you answer one or two before I've done with you.
There's a Doctor here, isn't there, as this school belongs to?"

"Yes, there is. It belongs to Dr. Wortle."

"It's him these boys are sent to?"

"Yes, he is the master; I am only his assistant."

"It's him they comes to for education, and morals, and religion?"

"Quite so."

"And he knows, no doubt, all about you and my sister-in-law;--how you came
and married her when she was another man's wife, and took her away when
you knew as that other man was alive and kicking?" Mr. Peacocke, when
these questions were put to him, remained silent, because literally he did
not know how to answer them. He was quite prepared to take his position
as he found it. He had told himself before this dreadful man had
appeared, that the truth must be made known at Bowick, and that he and his
wife must pack up and flit. It was not that the man could bring upon him
any greater evil than he had anticipated. But the questions which were
asked him were in themselves so bitter! The man, no doubt, was his wife's
brother-in-law. He could not turn him out of the house as he would a
stranger, had a stranger come there asking such questions without any
claim of family. Abominable as the man was to him, still he was there
with a certain amount of right upon his side.

"I think," said he, "that questions such as those you've asked can be of
no service to you. To me they are intended only to be injurious."

"They're as a preface to what is to come," said Robert Lefroy, with an
impudent leer upon his face. "The questions, no doubt, are disagreeable
enough. She ain't your wife no more than she's mine. You've no business
with her; and that you knew when you took her away from St. Louis. You
may, or you mayn't, have been fooled by some one down in Texas when you
went back and