Scandal may circulate for years before it comes to the ears of the persons most concerned in it; still, one could not help wondering how much Tyson knew.  He was going to take her away, which was certainly very wise of him.  Poor man, she had made Leicestershire rather too hot to hold him.

He was always going up to London now, and people who had met him there hinted that the country gentleman had become a man about town.  Still, you must not believe the half of what you hear; and supposing there was some truth in the report, why, what could you expect with a wife like that?

By March it was settled that they were to leave Thorneytoft and make London their headquarters.  Tyson had taken a flat in Ridgmount Gardens.  This, he said, was a good central position and handy for the theatres.  At any rate, he could not afford a better one so long as that infernal estate swallowed up two-thirds of his income.

It looked as if they meant to make a clean sweep of their past.  They began by making a clean sweep of the servants, from the kitchen-maid upwards.  Here they were forestalled.  Before it could come to his turn the thoughtful Pinker gave notice.  His example was followed by Swinny the virtuous.  Swinny, as it happened, was a niece of Farmer Ashby’s, the same who saw Stanistreet driving with his arm round Mrs. Nevill Tyson’s waist; she was first cousin to the landlord of “The Cross-Roads,” where the Captain retired on the night of the quarrel, and she was sister to Miss Batchelor’s maid.  The scandal was all in the family.  It was this circumstance, no doubt, that had given such color and consistency to the floating rumor.

Swinny, having regard to her testimonials, was not openly offensive.  She told Tyson that she was sorry to leave a good master and mistress, but she never could abide the town.  No more could Pinker.  And she must go where there was a baby.  Then Swinny, having shaken the dust of Thorneytoft from her virtuous feet, called on every member of her family, and told to each the same unvarying tale.  She wasn’t going to stay in a place where there were such goings on; it was as much as her character was worth.  The gentlemen were after Mrs. Nevill Tyson from morning till night, you couldn’t keep ’em off—­not that lot.  She hadn’t much to say to them, but she fair ran after the Captain—­it was perfectly disgraceful.  When Mr. Tyson sent him to the right-about, she waited till her husband’s back was turned, then she wrote to him to come.  And, as if nothing else would serve her, she had him up in the nursery when her little baby was dying.  They were actually whispering the two of them, and making eyes at each other over the child’s coffin.  Why, Pinker, he caught ’em in the library the very day of the funeral.  Oh, it wasn’t the Captain’s fault.  She whistled and he came, that was all.  So far Swinny.

Was that all?

On every face there was a tremendous query.  But upon the whole it was concluded that Stanistreet at any rate had had regard to his friend’s honor.