“Yes;—­I have heard of it,” said Phineas.

“Everybody has heard of it.  That is one of the terrible cruelties of such a blow.”

“All those things are very bad of course.  I was very much grieved,—­because you have both been intimate friends of mine.”

“Yes,—­yes; we were.  Do you ever see her now?”

“Not since last July,—­at the Duke’s party, you know.”

“Ah, yes; the morning of that day was the last on which I spoke to her.  It was then she left me.”

“I am going to dine with Lord Brentford to-morrow, and I dare say she will be there.”

“Yes;—­she is in town.  I saw her yesterday in her father’s carriage.  I think that she had no cause to leave me.”

“Of course I cannot say anything about that.”

“I think she had no cause to leave me.”  Phineas as he heard this could not but remember all that Lady Laura had told himself, and thought that no woman had ever had a better reason for leaving her husband.  “There were things I did not like, and I said so.”

“I suppose that is generally the way,” replied Phineas.

“But surely a wife should listen to a word of caution from her husband.”

“I fancy they never like it,” said Phineas.

“But are we all of us to have all that we like?  I have not found it so.  Or would it be good for us if we had?” Then he paused; but as Phineas had no further remark to make, he continued speaking after they had walked about a third of the length of the hall.  “It is not of my own comfort I am thinking now so much as of her name and her future conduct.  Of course it will in every sense be best for her that she should come back to her husband’s roof.”

“Well; yes;—­perhaps it would,” said Phineas.

“Has she not accepted that lot for better or for worse?” said Mr. Kennedy, solemnly.

“But incompatibility of temper, you know, is always,—­always supposed—.  You understand me?”

“It is my intention that she should come back to me.  I do not wish to make any legal demand;—­at any rate, not as yet.  Will you consent to be the bearer of a message from me both to herself and to the Earl?”

Now it seemed to Phineas that of all the messengers whom Mr. Kennedy could have chosen he was the most unsuited to be a Mercury in this cause,—­not perceiving that he had been so selected with some craft, in order that Lady Laura might understand that the accusation against her was, at any rate, withdrawn, which had named Phineas as her lover.  He paused again before he answered.  “Of course,” he said, “I should be most willing to be of service, if it were possible.  But I do not see how I can speak to the Earl about it.  Though I am going to dine with him I don’t know why he has asked me;—­for he and I are on very bad terms.  He heard that stupid story about the duel, and has not spoken to me since.”

“I heard that, too,” said Mr. Kennedy, frowning blackly as he remembered his wife’s duplicity.