"Lady Jane Lennox, you've heard, no doubt--pray, when does the General return?" If the scene had not been quite so public, I dare say this innocent little inquiry would have been the signal for one of those keen encounters to which these two fiery spirits were prone. "He has been detained unexpectedly," drawled Lady Jane. "You hear from him constantly?" pursued the old lady. "Every day." "It's odd he does not say when you may look for him," said Lady Alice. "Egad, you want to make her jealous, I think," interposed Sir Jekyl. "Jealous? Well, I think a young wife may very reasonably be jealous, though not exactly in the vulgar sense, when she is left without a clue to her husband's movements." "You said you were going to write to him. I wish you would, Lady Alice," said the young lady, with an air of some contempt. "I can't believe he has not said how soon his return may be looked for," observed the old lady. "I suppose he'll say whenever he can, and in the meantime I don't intend plaguing him with inquiries he can't answer." And with these words she leaned back fatigued, and with a fierce glance at Sir Jekyl, who was close by, she added, so loud that I wonder Lady Alice did not hear her--"Why don't you stop that odious old woman?" "Stop an odious old woman!--why, who ever did? Upon my honour, I know no way but to kill her," chuckled the Baronet. Lady Jane deigned no reply. "Come here, Dives, and sit by me," croaked the old lady, beckoning him with her thin, long finger. "I've hardly seen you since I came." "Very happy, indeed--very much obliged to you, Lady Alice, for wishing it." And the natty but somewhat forbidding-looking Churchman sat himself down in a prie-dieu chair vis-à-vis to the old gentlewoman, and folded his hands, expecting her exordium. "Do you remember, Sir Harry, your father?" "Oh, dear, yes. I recollect my poor father very well. We were at Oxford then or just going. How old was I?--pretty well out of my teens." It must be observed that they sat in a confidential proximity--nobody listened--nobody cared to approach. "You remember when he died, poor man?" "Yes--poor father!--we were at home--Jekyl and I--for the holidays--I believe it _was_--a month or so. The Bishop, you know, was with him." "I know. He's coming to-morrow." "Yes; so my brother here just told me--an excellent, exemplary, pious prelate, and a true friend to my poor father. He posted fifty miles--from Doncaster--in four hours and a half, to be with him. And a great comfort he was. I shall never forget it to him." "I don't think you cared for your father, Dives; and Jekyl positively disliked him," interposed Lady Alice agreeably. "I trust there was no feeling so unchristian and monstrous ever harboured in my brother's breast," replied Dives, loftily, and with a little flush in his cheeks. "You can't believe any such thing, my dear Dives; and you know you did not care if he was at the bottom of the Red Sea, and I don't wonder."