“I declare, sir, I was unjust enough to think you wrote it. I thought no one short of him who had come on your errand to-day could have been the author.” “Well, I wish with all my heart I 'd never come,” said he, with a melancholy gesture of his hands. “I declare, sir, I am not surprised at your confession. I suppose you are not aware that in the very moment adopted for this--this--this new establishment, there is something like studied insult to me. It is only ten days ago I mentioned to the Chief Baron that my son, Colonel Sewell, was coming back from India on a sick-leave. He has a wife and three little children, and, like most soldiers, is not over-well off. I suggested that as the Priory was a large roomy house, with abundant space for many people without in the slightest degree interfering with each other, he should offer the Sewells to take them in. I said nothing more,--nothing about _ménage_,--no details of any kind. I simply said: “Could n't you give the Sewells the rooms that look out on the back lawn? Nobody ever enters them; even when you receive in the summer evenings, they are not opened. It would be a great boon to an invalid to be housed so quietly, so removed from all noise and bustle.' And to mark how I intended no more, I added, 'They would n't bore you, nor need you ever see them unless you wished for it.' And what was his reply? 'Madam, I never liked soldiers. I 'm not sure that his young wife would n't be displeasing to me, and I know that his children would be insufferable.' “I said, 'Let me take the dear children, then.' 'Do, by all means, and their dear parents also,' he broke in. 'I should be in despair if I thought I had separated you.' Yes, sir, I give you his very words. This wise and truly great man, or truly wise and great--which is it?--had nothing more generous nor more courteous to say to me than a sarcasm and an impertinence. Are you not proud of your friend?” Never was there a more unlucky peroration, from the day when Lord Denman concluded an eloquent defence of a queen's innocence by appealing to the unhappy illustration which called forth the touching words, “Let him that is without sin cast the first stone at her.” Never was there a more signal blunder than to ask this man to repudiate the friendship which had formed the whole pride and glory of his life.