"Lady Abdy was musical then?" "Oh, very. She was always at it! I used to be tired to death of her music and often wished she would leave off: but now she is gone Miss Wilson, I would give the world to hear her play Foote's minuet!" "Or, 'Off she goes,'" added I. "What is that, pray, Miss?" "A very lively dance," I answered. "True, Miss, I recollect my wife used to play it." "Dear me, Sir William, how could she be so foolish as to run away? I dare say you never interfered with her, or entered her room without knocking." "Never, upon my honour." "Well, I always heard you were a very kind, obliging, good-natured husband." "Yes, and sometimes, when I used to knock latterly, Lady Abdy would not open the door!" "That was wrong," said I, shaking my head, "very wrong." "And how could that nasty, stupid fellow seduce her I cannot think!" "There was good blood in her veins, you know, by the mother's side. Besides, to tell you the truth, I don't think Charles Bentinck did seduce Lady Abdy from you." "Oh! dear, Miss Wilson, what do you mean?" "Shall I speak frankly?" "Oh, Lord a mercy! pray do! I am quite in a fright!" "I think Fred Lamb was one of her seducers; but how many more may have had a finger in the pie, I really cannot take upon myself to say." "Oh, Lord! oh, Lord! Miss Wilson!" said Sir William, grasping my arm with both his hands, "you do not say so? What makes you think so?" "I have seen Fred Lamb daily and constantly riding past her door. I know him to be a young man of strong passions, much fonder of enjoyment than pursuit; and further, my sister Fanny, one of the most charitable of all human beings, told me she had seen Fred Lamb in a private box at Drury Lane with your wife, and her hand was clasped in his, which he held on his knee!" "Oh, la, Miss!" "Come, do not take on so," said I, in imitation of Brummell's nonsense, and striving to conceal a laugh, "leave your dull house in Hill Street, and set off to-morrow morning, on some pleasant excursion. Be assured that you will find fifty pretty girls, who will be so delighted with you as soon to make you forget Lady Abdy." "But then," said Sir William, "I cannot think how she came to be in the family-way: for I am sure, Miss Wilson, that during all the years we have lived together, I always----" "Never mind," interrupted I, "go home now, and prepare for your journey, and be sure to write to me, and tell me if your mind is easier." "Thank you, Miss Wilson! you are all goodness. I'll be sure to write, and I mean to set off to-morrow morning, and I'll never come back to that nasty, dull, large house of mine again." "Get the sofa removed," said I, "at all events." "Yes, Miss, I will, thank you; and the pianoforte. So good-bye, Miss;" and then returning, quite in a whisper, "perhaps, Miss Wilson, when you and I become better acquainted, you'll give me a kiss!" I only laughed, and bade him take care of himself, and so we parted.