"Gone with my husband," replied Constance, clasping her hands and looking upward.
"As my poor brother never yet, to my knowledge at least, prior to his luckless American tour, appended his name to any document as Lamorna, we have no means of testing or comparing the signature to your production, were such test necessary—which it is not."
Gathering courage, Constance was about to make some proud response, when Downie, in his (external) character pure and unspotted as his shirt front, said while turning to the General—
"My brother Richard picked up, of course, some of those dissipated habits which are peculiar to the army, and——"
"Oh, pardon me, my lord," began the General, in a deprecatory tone, while inserting his right hand in the breast of his closely buttoned surtout.
"It is true, Trecarrel; you redcoats are a sad set, and here we see the result of an unlucky liaison."
"Richard—Richard," wailed Constance, "how hard is all this to bear!"
"Yes, madam," said Downie; "but the way of transgressors is always hard."
"Transgressors, sir?"
"Against the laws of morality and society, madam. Do not misunderstand me, madam."