"Two years?" replied my uncle. "Is it really two years?"
"Consult your log-books, if they have not been buried with your friend."
"Ah! forgive me, dear Eudoxia, I have had during all this time most important business."
"Yes," continued my aunt, "we all know what important business you have; I've heard some fine accounts of you. Do you know what Lord Clifden told me at St. Petersburg three months ago, while complimenting me upon my widow's mourning, which, by the way, suited me extremely well? He told me that during your lifetime you had been a bigamist."
"What a likely story!" exclaimed my uncle, boldly.
"He assured me that he had seen you at Madras with a Spanish woman, you old traitor! She was young and pretty, and passed openly by the name of Señora Barbassou. It was surely not worth while making me elope with you, in order that you might treat me in this fashion!"
"Lord Clifden told you a story, my dear, and a very silly story too. I hope you did not believe a word of it?"
"Upon my word, you are such an eccentric character, you know!" she answered, with a laugh.
"And what have you been doing yourself?" continued my uncle, whose coolness had not deserted him for an instant; "where have you been?"
"Oh, if I were to reckon back to the day you left me, I should lose myself!" replied my aunt. "A year ago, at this season, I was on my estate in the Crimea, where I vegetated for five months; then I spent the winter at St. Petersburg, and the spring at my château in Corfu, where I had the advantage of a comfortable place in which to mourn over you. Finally I had been two months at Vienna, when I received from my steward eight days ago the letter in which you did me the honour of informing me both of your resurrection and of your desire to see me. I quickly made my farewell calls, started off, and here I am! Now," she added, holding out a plaid to him, "if you will kindly allow me to change these travelling clothes, you will make my happiness complete."