“What shall I say, chère amie? He was afraid of her.” (It was the elderly spinster who again began the attack.) “He could roar at his officers, but he was afraid of a scene with Francis.”
“Excuse me for once more contradicting you, miss. Colonel von Zwenken never roared at his officers—this I know by experience; but it is true he was conspicuous by his absence when Francis Mordaunt went into society. He suffered her to go out when she liked, and with whom she liked. Alas! he sat at the card table in his club whilst Francis by her thoughtlessness and certain peculiarities in her character, was rendering herself a victim to calumny and envious tongues.”
“Bravo, Captain! it’s noble of you to defend the absent.”
“I am only sorry I cannot do so without blaming another absent person; but what I say is known, and well known, in this circle.”
“As well known as the eccentricities of Major Frank. Whatever Captain Sanders may say, we are not making her conduct appear worse than it is; we are only speaking of it as it struck us at the time.”
“That everybody must acknowledge,” said an old lady, who had thus far listened with sparkling eyes. “Only remember what talk her conduct gave rise to when she met the stranger staying at the ‘Golden Salmon,’ by appointment, unknown to the Colonel, who had forbidden the man his house! Did she not set all our ideas of good breeding at defiance by walking in the plantation in open daylight with a perfect stranger.”
“In fact, I am assured she pawned her diamonds to pay his hotel bill. She even wished to sell them, for she asked a friend of mine to buy them.”
Overberg’s healthy, blooming face turned pale; but he said nothing. The Captain, however, spoke again—
“It is only too true she would risk all to attain her ends, if she had once set her mind on a thing.”
“And that for a person who went to a third-rate hotel—did not even give his own name, as it was said afterwards; and who certainly was a sharper or a coiner.”