But she is good to the poor: she takes care of her mother, and she comes to church twice every Sunday.

And as for Smirke, my dear----" here the Doctor's face assumed for one moment a comical expression, which Mrs.
Portman did not perceive (for she was looking out of the drawing-room window, and wondering what Mrs.Pybus could want cheapening fowls again in the market, when she had bad poultry from Livermore's two days before)--"and as for Mr.Smirke, my dear Betsy, will you promise me that you will never breathe to any mortal what I am going to tell you as a profound secret ?" "What is it, my dear John!--of course I won't," answered the Rector's lady.
"Well, then--I cannot say it is a fact, mind--but if you find that Smirke is at this moment--ay, and has been for years--engaged to a young lady, a Miss--a Miss Thompson, if you will have the name, who lives on Clapham Common--yes, on Clapham Common, not far from Mrs.Smirke's house, what becomes of your story then about Smirke and Mrs.Pendennis ?" "Why did you not tell me this before ?" asked the Doctor's wife.--"How long have you known it ?--How we all of us have been deceived in that man!" "Why should I meddle in other folks' business, my dear ?" the Doctor answered.

"I know how to keep a secret--and perhaps this is only an invention like that other absurd story; at least, Madame Portman, I should never have told you this but for the other, which I beg you to contradict whenever you hear it." And so saying the Doctor went away to his study, and Mrs.Portman seeing that the day was a remarkably fine one, thought she would take advantage of the weather and pay a few visits.
The Doctor looking out of his study window saw the wife of his bosom presently issue forth, attired in her best.

She crossed the Market-place, saluting the market-women right and left, and giving a glance at the grocery and general emporium at the corner: then entering London Street (formerly Hog Lane), she stopped for a minute at Madame Fribsby's window, and looking at the fashions which hung up there,--seemed hesitating whether she should enter; but she passed on and never stopped again until she came to Mrs.Pybus's little green gate and garden, through which she went to that lady's cottage.
There, of course, her husband lost sight of Mrs.Portman.

"Oh, what a long bow I have pulled," he said inwardly--"Goodness forgive me! and shot my own flesh and blood.