let sleeping dogs lie, and don't push enquiries about dropped relatives.
When we are invited to dine at my lord's, we do not peep to see if the broken meats and the half-finished bottles be tumbled down under the feet to be mumbled and drained by the forgotten ones beneath. When we dance at my lady's Christmas ball, in the state ball-room, we know very well that below it is the family oubliette but we scuffle with our feet to drown the moans of those mauvais sujets who lie below, and the orchestra sounds its loudest strains to disguise the rattle of their chains.
"My dear husband," said Arminell, "take Lamerton to see your models. They will interest him, and I will go in with mamma. Besides, you can clear his mind of delusions with respect to the Druids, which is really important. You know that there is a circle of stones on Orleigh Common, and in an unguarded moment the boy might attribute them to the ancient Britons."
"The matter is not one to joke upon," said Jingles, with a flicker of annoyance in his face.
Then he retreated to the pavilion with his old pupil, to show him the work on which he was engaged.
Arminell, quick in perception, saw that Lady Lamerton had noticed the transient cloud, so she said, with a smile, "Do you remember my husband when he was Giles's tutor? I mean, do you remember how sensitive he then was, how he winced when you came near him? I have heard of nervous disorders that make men thus susceptible. If you put a finger on them, they scream and writhe; if near them, they quiver with apprehension. He was in like manner touchy. Now, however, he is quite recovered. There is but one single point on which he is sensitive, and where a feather will make him wince."
"What is that?"
