“It’s one of my rules,” he said, “and you ought to know it by this time--never to go back to anything that’s disagreeable. Live and let live’s my motto, and forget and forgive is another--and what’s more, I practise what I preach, eh, Honor? No dwelling upon old grievances with me. I don’t say that I’m exactly saint enough to turn my second cheek to the smiter; and what’s more, I didn’t ask your excellent husband--who’s got a fist like a sledge-hammer--to knock me down a second time; but I don’t bear malice all the same--not a grain of it; and I shouldn’t mind--upon my word I shouldn’t--shaking hands with him to-morrow.” At this conciliatory speech Mrs. Norcott laughed heartily; Honor, on the contrary, looked very grave. There was something in her father’s words that jarred terribly against her sense of what was delicate and becoming. She had not been happy, lately with her husband--he had been cold and hard, and had not seemed to understand or value her; his want of outward refinement too had often offended her taste; but for all that, she both respected his character, and had taught herself to see nothing degrading in his position. When, therefore, she heard the Colonel speak in this slightly supercilious tone of the absent John, Honor felt rather indignant at the liberty taken. It was a very different affair, allowing herself and permitting others to be disrespectful to the man to whom she owed so much; so this girl-wife, whose heart was still in the right place, listened with a countenance from which the smile was momentarily banished, to the Colonel’s half-sneering mention of her husband’s name. She was glad--for she felt called upon to say something--when Arthur Vavasour, by asking a question connected with the Paddocks, relieved her from the embarrassment of responding to her father’s flippant sally. “You will ride, of course, Mrs. Beacham, while you are in town,” he said; “you will enjoy it so much, and Lady Meg would be so immensely admired. I don’t think I ever saw so many fine horses, or such a number of pretty women, as there were in the Park to-day; but Lady Meg” (he had the grace not to say her mistress too) “would whip ’em all to nothing, as the Yankees say.” Again the betraying blush rose to Honor’s cheek, as she explained to Arthur that there was no chance of her joining the equestrians in the Row. She had neither horse nor habit, she said, in London; and besides, John had only allowed her to come up on the plea of nursing her father; and now that he was quite well again, why--she supposed she had only to go home again.