“I called, sir,—on Mrs Sullivan,—to offer an apology for my conduct last night; but as I perceive that she is not visible, I will take a more favourable opportunity.”
“Any apology you may have to offer to my wife, sir,” replied Mr Sullivan, “may be confided to me. May I inquire the circumstances which have occurred to render an apology necessary?” and Mr Sullivan walked to the door and closed it.
“Why, really, Mr Sullivan, you must be aware that circumstances may occur,” replied the colonel, more confused: “the fact is, that I consider it my duty, as a gentleman and a man of honour, to express my regrets to your fair lady.”
“My fair lady! for what, sir, may I ask?”
“Why, sir,” stammered the colonel, “to state the truth, for, as a gentleman and a man of honour, I ought not to be ashamed to acknowledge my error—for—the very improper behaviour which I was guilty of last night.”
“Improper behaviour, sir!—d—nation! with my wife?” roared Mr Sullivan, in his rage. “What behaviour, sir? and when, sir?”
“Really, sir, I was too much affected with the wine to know anything which passed. I did hope to have addressed the lady in person on the subject, and I came here with that intention.”
“I daresay you did, sir.”
“But,” continued the colonel, “as it appears I am not to have that honour, I consider that I have done my duty in requesting that you will convey my sentiments of regret for what has passed;—and now, sir, I wish you a good morning.”
“Good morning,” retorted the husband, with a sneer, “and observe, sir, I will not trouble you to call again. William, show this gentleman outside the door.”
The colonel, who was descending the stairs, turned round to Mr Sullivan at the latter part of his speech, and then, as if thinking better of it, he resumed his descent, and the door was immediately closed upon him.
Mr Sullivan, as soon as he was satisfied that the colonel was shut out, immediately repaired to his wife’s dressing-room, where he found her reading.
“Madam,” said he, fixing his eyes sternly on her, “I have been informed of what took place last night.”
“I’m sure I do not know what that was,” replied the lady, coolly, “except that you were very tipsy.”
“Granted, madam; you took advantage of it; and your conduct—”
“My conduct, Mr Sullivan!” replied his wife, kindling with anger.
“Yes, Mrs Sullivan, your conduct. A married woman, madam, who allows gentlemen—”
“Gentlemen, Mr Sullivan! I allow no gentleman but yourself. Are you sure that you are quite sober?”
“Yes, madam, I am; but this affected coolness will not avail you: deny, if you can, that Colonel Ellice did not last night—”
“Well, then, I do deny it. Neither Colonel Ellice nor any other man ever did—”
“Did what, madam?” interrupted the husband in a rage.