Together with Miss Stanbury’s first letter to her sister-in-law a letter had also been delivered to Mrs Trevelyan.  Nora Rowley, as her sister had left the room with this in her hand, had expressed her opinion that it had come from Trevelyan; but it had in truth been written by Colonel Osborne.  And when that second letter from Miss Stanbury had been received at the Clock House, that in which she in plain terms begged pardon for the accusation conveyed in her first letter, Colonel Osborne had started on his deceitful little journey to Cockchaffington, and Mr Bozzle, the ex-policeman who had him in hand, had already asked his way to Nuncombe Putney.

When Colonel Osborne learned that Louis Trevelyan had broken up his establishment in Curzon Street, and had sent his wife away into a barbarous retirement in Dartmoor, for such was the nature of the information on the subject which was spread among Trevelyan’s friends in London, and when he was made aware also that all this was done on his account because he was so closely intimate with Trevelyan’s wife, and because Trevelyan’s wife was, and persisted in continuing to be, so closely intimate with him his vanity was gratified.  Although it might be true and no doubt was true that he said much to his friends and to himself of the deep sorrow which he felt that such a trouble should befall his old friend and his old friend’s daughter; nevertheless, as he curled his grey whiskers before the glass, and made the thost of such remnant of hair as was left on the top of his head, as he looked to the padding of his coat, and completed a study of the wrinkles beneath his eyes, so that in conversation they might be as little apparent as possible, he felt more of pleasure than of pain in regard to the whole affair.  It was very sad that it should be so, but it was human.  Had it been in his power to set the whole matter right by a word, he would probably have spoken that word; but as this was not possible, as Trevelyan had in his opinion made a gross fool of himself, as Emily Trevelyan was very nice, and not the less nice in that she certainly was fond of himself, as great tyranny had been used towards her, and as he himself had still the plea of old family friendship to protect his conscience—­to protect his conscience unless he went so far as to make that plea an additional sting to his conscience—­he thought that, as a man, he must follow up the matter.  Here was a young, and fashionable, and very pretty woman banished to the wilds of Dartmoor for his sake.  And, as far as he could understand, she would not have been so banished had she consented to say that she would give up her acquaintance with him.  In such circumstances as these was it possible that he should do nothing?  Various ideas ran through his head.  He began to think that if Trevelyan were out of the way, he might might perhaps be almost tempted to make this woman his wife.  She was so nice that he almost thought that he might be rash enough for that,