"Ah, but you must not judge of that by what she is now. She was a very attractive girl, and kept her manners within bounds. Just the kind of girl that many a silly young ape would lose his head for; and Bevere, I take it, lost his heart as well as his head." "Did you know of the marriage at the time?" "Not until after it had taken place." "They could never have pulled well together as man and wife; two people so opposite as they are." "No, I fancy not," answered Richard Scott, looking straight out before him, but as though he saw nothing. "She has not tried at it. Once his wife, safe and sure, she thought she had it all her own way--as of course in one sense she had, and could give the reins to her inclination. Nothing that Bevere wanted her to do, would she do. He wished her to give up all acquaintance with the two girls at the Bell-and-Clapper; but not she. He----" "Is Miss Panken flourishing?" "Quite," laughed Scott, "The other one came to grief--Mabel Falkner." "Did she! I thought she seemed rather nice." "She was a very nice little girl indeed, as modest as Polly Panken is impudent. The one could take care of herself; the other couldn't--or didn't. Well, Mabel fell into trouble, and of course lost her post. Madam Lizzie immediately gave her house-room, setting Bevere, who forbade it, at defiance. What with grief and other disasters, the girl fell sick there; had an illness, and had to be kept I don't know how long. It put Bevere out uncommonly." "Is this lately?" "Oh no; last year. Lizzie---- By the way," broke off Scott, stopping again and searching his pocket, "I've got a note from her for Bevere. You can give it him." The words nearly seared away my senses. A note from Lizzie to Bevere! "Why, then, she must know he is here!" I cried. "You don't understand," quietly said Scott, giving me a note from his pocket-book. "A day or two ago, I met Lizzie near the Bell-and-Clapper. She----" "She is well enough to be out, then!" "Yes. At times she is as well as you are. Well, I met her, and she began to give me a message for her husband, which I could not then wait to hear. So she sent this note to me later, to be delivered to him when we next met. I had not time to go to him yesterday, and here the note is still." It was addressed "Mr. Bevary." I pointed out the name to Scott. "Does she not know better, think you?" "Very likely not," he answered. "A wrong letter, more or less, in a name, signifies but little to one of Lizzie's standard of education. It is not often, I expect, she sees the name on paper, or has to write it. Fare you well, Ludlow. Remember me to Bevere." Scott had hardly disappeared when they met me. I said nothing of having seen him. After treating Tottams to some tarts and a box of bonbons, we set off home again; the winter afternoon was closing, and it was nearly dark when we arrived. Getting Roger into his room, I handed him the note, and told him how I came by it. He showed me the contents. "DEAR ROGER,