“Would you like to see Miss Dragwell?”

“Yes, very much; I always thought her a very nice girl;—­a little wild—­a little forward indeed, and apt to be impertinent; but still, rather a nice girl.”

“Well, then, I will tell her to call, and the sooner the better, for when it is known, the whole town will be in an uproar.  I should not be surprised if they attacked the house—­the people will be so indignant.”

“I don’t wonder at it,” replied Mrs Forster; “nothing can excuse such provocation as I receive from my husband, stupid wretch!”

“Good morning, Mrs Forster; do you think, then, that you could bear moving?”

“O yes!  O yes!  But where am I to go?”

“That I really cannot form an idea of—­you had better consult with Miss Dragwell.  Depend upon it, Mrs Forster, that I will be most happy to render you all my assistance in this unfortunate dilemma.”

“You’re very good,” snarled Mrs Forster:  and Ramsden quitted the room.

I have one or two acquaintances, to whom, if I wish a report to be circulated, I immediately impart the substance as a most profound secret; and I find that by these means it obtains a much more extensive circulation than if I sent it to the newspapers.

Ramsden was aware of Betsy’s cackling propensities; and long before he quitted Mrs Forster, it was generally believed throughout the good town of Overton that Mr Spinney, although he had not been killed outright, as reported in the first instance, had subsequently died of the injuries received from this modern Xantippe.

Mrs Forster had half an hour to reflect upon her supposed awkward situation; and to drive away thought, had sent for Nicholas, whom she loaded with the bitterest invectives, when Miss Dragwell was announced.

“See, sir,” continued Mrs Forster, “the condition to which you have reduced a fond and faithful wife—­one that has so studied your interests; one—­”

“Yes, indeed,” added Miss Dragwell, who heard the attack as she ascended the stairs, and took up the cause of Mrs Forster to obtain her confidence—­“yes, indeed, Mr Forster, see the consequences of your folly, your smoking, and your drinking.  Pray leave the room, sir; I wonder how Mrs Forster can bear the sight of you!”

Nicholas stated, and was about to throw in a detached word or two, by way of vindication, when a furious “Begone!” from his wife occasioned a precipitate retreat.

“We have all been consulting about this sad business, my dear Mrs Forster,” commenced Miss Dragwell; “and after much consideration have hit upon the only plan by which you may escape the penalty of the law.  Yes, my dear ma’am,” continued Miss Dragwell, in the most bland and affectionate voice, “it is unwise to conceal the truth from you; the depositions of my father and Mr Hilton, when they are called upon, will be such that ‘Wilful Murder’ must be returned, and you—­(the young lady faltered, and put up her handkerchief)—­you must inevitably be hanged!”