"Well, it seems that he saved her life, or something of that sort."

"Saved her life!" Dacres started. "How? where? Cool, too!"

"Oh, on the Alps somewhere."

"On the Alps! saved her life! Come now, I like that," said Dacres,
with bitter intonation. Aha! don't I know her? I warrant you she
contrived all that. Oh, she's deep! But how did it happen? Did you
hear?"

"Well, I didn't hear any thing very definite. It was something about a
precipice. It was Lady Dalrymple that told me. It seems she was
knocked over a precipice by an avalanche."

"Was what? Knocked where? Over a precipice? By a what--an avalanche?
Good Lord! I don't believe it. I swear I don't. She invented it all.
It's some of her infernal humbug. She slid off over the snow, so as to
get him to go after her. Oh, don't I know her and her ways!"

"Well, come now, old man, you shouldn't be too hard on her. You never
said that flirtation was one of her faults."

"Well, neither it was; but, as she is a demon, she's capable of any
thing; and now she has sobered down, and all her vices have taken this
turn. Oh yes. I know her. No more storms now--no rage, no fury---all
quiet and sly. Flirtation! Ha, ha! That's the word. And my wife! And
going about the country, tumbling over precipices, with devilish
handsome Italians going down to save her life! Ha, ha, ha! I like