She was reading as he entered; a little table with a tea equipage at her side. She did not raise her eyes from her book when he came in; but whether his footstep on the stair had its meaning to her quick ears or not, a slight flush quivered on her cheek, and her mouth trembled faintly.
“Shall I give you some tea?” asked she, as he threw himself into a seat. He made no answer, and she laid down her book, and sat still and silent.
“Was your dinner pleasant?” said she, after a pause.
“How could it be other than pleasant, Madam,” said he, fiercely, “when they talked so much of you?”
“Of me?—talked of me?”
“Just so; there were a set of young fellows who had just joined from another battalion, and who discoursed of you, of your life in India, of your voyage home, and lastly of some incidents that were attributed to your sojourn here. To me it was perfectly delightful. I had my opinion asked over and over again, if I thought that such a levity was so perfectly harmless, and such another liberty was the soul of innocence? In a word, Madam, I enjoyed the privilege, very rarely accorded to a husband, I fancy, to sit in judgment over his own wife, and say what he thought of her conduct.”
“Was there no one to tell these gentlemen to whom they were speaking?” said she, with a subdued, quiet tone.
“No; I came in late and took my place amongst men all strangers to me. I assure you I profited largely by the incident. It is so seldom one gets public opinion in its undiluted form, it 's quite refreshing to taste it neat. Of course they were not always correct. I could have set them right on many points. They had got a totally wrong version of what they called the 'Agra row,' though one of the party said he was Beresford's cousin.”
She grasped the table convulsively to steady herself, and in so doing threw it down, and the whole tea equipage with it.
“Yes,” continued he, as though responding to this evidence of emotion on her part,—“yes; it pushed one's patience pretty hard to be obliged to sit under such criticism.”