The Blagdon-Lumley case, was entirely circumstantial, and the chain of evidence complete; the petitioner, a wealthy man; no enterprising legal firm came forward as a speculation to take up the co-respondent’s side, and the suit was undefended. Lumley had again repaired to Mr. Ross (Ross, Carbery & Co.), and told a plain, unvarnished tale, assuring them of the lady’s innocence on his solemn word of honour. The firm listened with agreeable sympathy, but declared, that there was nothing to be done, but face the consequences of an act of folly. Mrs. Blagdon had run away from her husband, leaving a letter of confession; she had joined their client in London openly, and left the hotel in his company. It was true, that she had repented, and next day presented herself at home in the character of a reformed wife; but it wouldn’t do--no, it would _not_ do. “I understand, that she is extraordinarily good-looking,” added Mr. Ross, “and that might give her a chance with the jury; but if you will take my advice, Captain Lumley, and speaking in the character of a friend, you will not attempt to defend the case. The less mud-throwing the better--all can be arranged between Mr. Blagdon’s lawyers and ourselves; at the end of six months there will be the usual decree, and I take it for granted, that you will marry the lady?” But, as it happened, the lady absolutely refused to marry Lumley. For some time she had been in a state of collapse, under the roof and the care of her friend at Oldcourt. She seemed to be in a dazed condition, her recent experience appeared to have exercised an almost paralysing effect on her thinking faculties, and when she recovered, and was informed that the trial was over, that Hugo had generously settled five hundred a year upon her, and she was free to marry again; she assured Maude Hesketh and Mrs. Denton that nothing in the world would induce her to do so. No arguments affected her, and she positively declined to see Lancelot Lumley. “I have done him enough harm as it is,” she pleaded, “and I only hope he may forget me.” So Captain Lumley went out to his new regiment, which was quartered in Peshawur, with an empty pocket, a sore heart, and a somewhat damaged reputation. It is perhaps needless to mention, that Mrs. Fenchurch did not spare the culprit when she came to Oldcourt to visit and upbraid her. Letty sat listening and gazing in helpless silence, whilst her aunt had her ‘_say_.’ After a vigorous arraignment of her conduct, and her shameful abandonment of a splendid position, she concluded: