"Your Grace is willing to divest me of what little I possess."
"Pendennyss is a man of a thousand," continued Lady Laura, with the privilege of a married woman. "I do wish he would join us at Bath—is there no hope, duke?"
"I am afraid not," replied his Grace; "he keeps himself immured in Wales with his sister, who is as much of a hermit as he is himself."
"There was a story of an inamorata in private somewhere," cried the marquis; "why at one time it was even said he was privately married to her."
"Scandal, my lord," said the duke, gravely: "Pendennyss is of unexceptionable morals, and the lady you mean is the widow of Major Fitzgerald, whom you knew. Pendennyss never sees her, though by accident he was once of very great service to her."
Mrs. Wilson breathed freely again, as she heard this explanation, and thought if the marquis knew all, how differently would he judge Pendennyss, as well as others.
"Oh! I have the highest opinion of Lord Pendennyss," cried the marquis.
The Moseleys were not sorry that the usual hour of retiring put an end to the conversation and their embarrassment.
