“Somewhere down in Surrey--Lord knows--I forget the names--but to General somebody’s.” “General B----‘s, perhaps.” “Ay, ay,--that’s it.” My imagination ran over in an instant all the general’s family, the gouty brother, and the white-toothed aide-de-camp. “How long are they to stay at General B----‘s, can you tell me, my good lady?” “Dear heart! I can’t tell, not I’s, how they’ll cut and carve their visitings--all I know is, they be to be back here in ten days or a fortnight or so.” I put a golden memorandum, with my card, into the old woman’s hand, and she promised that the very moment Mr. and Miss Montenero should return to town I should have notice. During this fortnight my anxiety was increased by hearing from Mrs. Coates, whom I accidentally met at a fruit-shop, that “Miss Montenero was taken suddenly ill of a scarlet fever down in the country at General B----‘s, where,” as Mrs. Coates added, “they could get no advice for her at all, but a country apothecary, which was worse than nobody.” Mrs. Coates, who was not an ill-natured, though a very ill-bred woman, observing the terrible alarm into which she had thrown me by her intelligence, declared she was quite sorry she had _outed_ with the news so sudden upon me. Mrs. Coates now stood full in the doorway of the fruit-shop, so as to stop me completely from effecting my retreat; and while her footman was stowing into her carriage the loads of fruit which she had purchased, I was compelled to hear her go on in the following style.