“What does it all mean?” asked she.

Mr. Newt stopped in his walk, smiled contemptuously, and pointed to his wife, who sat with her handkerchief over her eyes.

“Pooh!” said Mrs. Dagon, “I knew ’twould come to this.  I’ve seen her hugging him the whole winter, and so has every body else who has eyes.”

And she shook her plumage as she settled into a seat.

“Mrs. Boniface Newt is unfortunately blind; that is to say, she sees every body’s affairs but her own,” said Mr. Newt, tauntingly.

Mrs. Dagon, without heeding him, talked on.

“But why did they run away to be married?  What does it mean?  Fanny’s not romantic, and Dinks is a fool.  He’s rich, and a proper match enough, for a woman can’t expect to have every thing.  I can’t see why he didn’t propose regularly, and behave like other people.  Do you suppose he was actually engaged to his cousin Hope Wayne, and that our darling Fanny has outwitted the Boston beauty, and the Boston beau too, for that matter?  It looks like it, really.  I think that must be it.  It’s a pity a Newt should marry a fool—­”

“It is not the first time,” interrupted her nephew, making a low bow to his wife.

Mrs. Dagon looked a little surprised.  She had seen little jars and rubs before in the family, but this morning she seemed to have happened in upon an earthquake.  She continued: 

“But we must make the best of it.  Are they in the house?”

“No, Aunt Dagon,” said Mr. Newt.  “I knew nothing of it until, half an hour ago, I read it in the paper with all the rest of the world.  It seems it was a family secret.”  And he bowed again to his wife,

“Don’t, don’t,” sobbed she.  “You know I didn’t know any thing about it.  Oh!  Aunt Dagon, I never knew him so unjust and wicked as he is to-day.  He treats me cruelly.”  And the poor woman covered her red eyes again with her handkerchief, and rocked herself feebly.  Mr. Newt went out, and slammed the door behind him.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

A FIELD-DAY.

“Now, Nancy, tell me about this thing,” said Mrs. Dagon, when the husband was gone.

But Nancy had nothing to tell.

“I don’t like his running away with her—­that looks bad,” continued Mrs. Dagon.  She pondered a few moments, and then said: 

“I can tell you one thing, Nancy, which it wasn’t worth while to mention to Boniface, who seems to be nervous this morning—­but I am sure Fanny proposed the running off.  Alfred Dinks is too great a fool.  He never would have thought of it, and he would never have dared to do it if he had.”

“Oh dear me!” responded Mrs. Newt.