Lord Fleetwood ran about in Germany repeating his remarks.

But the man is really an accomplished violinist, we hear.

She dances the tambourine business.

A sister of the man, perhaps, if we must be charitable.

They are, some say, a couple of Hungarian gypsies Lord F.found at a show and brought over to England, and soon had it on his conscience that he ought to marry her, like the Quixote of honour that he is; which is equal to saying crazy, as there is no doubt his mother was.
The marriage is no longer disputable; poor Lady Fleetwood, whatever her faults as a step-mother, does no longer deny the celebration of a marriage; though she might reasonably discredit any such story if he, on the evening of the date of the wedding day, was at a Ball, seen by her at the supper-table; though it is admitted he left the Ball-room at night.