As he was not in the mood for conversation, and knew no woman could possibly keep quiet for three mortal hours, he decided to get into a smoking-carriage. He thought he had taken his precautions, and was congratulating himself upon his forethought, when the porter threw open the door of the very carriage in which he had ensconced himself, saying, civilly: “Now, ma’am, if you please.” “But this is a smoking-carriage, porter,” interrupted Colonel Dacre. “All right, sir; that’s what the lady wants,” he answered, somewhat disenchanted, but still deferential, as he handed her in, and put her bag and dressing-case in the seat beside her. “I hope I don’t inconvenience you,” the lady began, then stopped short, and held out her hand. “Why, Lawrence, it is actually you! What an unmitigated piece of good luck!” And she threw up her veil, and showed the handsome but bold features of Mrs. O’Hara. Colonel Dacre had always felt kindly toward Mrs. O’Hara, in spite of her many faults and indiscretions, and, indeed, during her married life she had been exceedingly popular in the regiment, on account of her unaffected good nature. Colonel Dacre remembered what she had been, and forgot what she was, so that he always found a cordial greeting for her when they came together. Their hands met in a warm grasp. “You can’t think how glad I am to have some one to talk to,” she said, her eyes suddenly clouding with tears. “You have heard of my poor brother’s sad death?” “To tell you the truth, Norah, I never knew you had a brother.” “No; well, it was no use telling everybody,” she answered, with some embarrassment. “He did not go on quite as one could have wished, and of course it would have annoyed Jack to have George talked about as his brother-in-law.” “But after your husband’s death?” “Then it would have looked odd, surely, to have suddenly announced that I had a brother, as nobody had ever heard of him before.” “You know, Norah, I always think honesty the best policy.” “I started with the same notion, but I found out it did not do,” returned Mrs. O’Hara sadly. “All the women are against me now, because they say I am so gushing that I talk about the first thing that comes into my head, and so lead men away from their wives.” “Yes; I have heard you accused of that, certainly,” interrupted Colonel Dacre, remembering the accusation Lady Gwendolyn had made. “There was Percy Gray, for instance.” Mrs. O’Hara blushed vividly. “As you say that honesty is the best policy, I will admit I did behave rather unwisely there. The fact was, Lady Maria brought what happened entirely on herself. Percy Gray hadn’t the faintest idea of falling in love with me, until she put it into his head; but--would you believe it?--when he was going to Norway fishing, she accused him of intending to elope with me. The consequence was that he couldn’t bear Lady Maria to tell a falsehood, and he came off at once and asked me to put her in the right.” “And what did you do?”