"Yes, ma'am, I just passed the carriage in the avenue: she is going
home, is not she?" said he, rather in a tone of satisfaction.

"Ah, poor thing! yes," said Mrs. Beaumont, in a most pathetic tone: "ah,
poor thing!"

"Why, ma'am, what has happened to her? What's the matter?"

"Matter? Oh, nothing!--Did I say that any thing was the matter? Don't
speak so loud," whispered she: "your groom heard every word we said;
stay till he is out of hearing, and then we can talk."

"I don't care if all the world hears what I say," cried Mr. Beaumont
hastily: but, as if suppressing his rising indignation, he, with a
milder look and tone, added, "I cannot conceive, my dear mother, why you
are always so afraid of being overheard."

"Servants, my dear, make such mischief, you know, by misunderstanding
and misrepresenting every thing they hear; and they repeat things so
oddly, and raise such strange reports!"

"True--very true indeed, ma'am," said Mr. Beaumont. "You are quite
right, and I beg pardon for being so hasty--I wish you could teach me a
little of your patience and prudence."

"Prudence! ah! my dear Edward, 'tis only time and sad experience of the
world can teach that to people of _our_ open tempers. I was at your age
ten times more imprudent and unsuspicious than you are."

"Were you, ma'am?--But I don't think I am unsuspicious. I was when I was