Perhaps it was fanciful Mrs.Irons' jealous hullabaloos and hysterics that did it--I don't know--but people have been observed, _apropos_ of him, to wink at one another, and grin, and shake their heads, and say: 'the nearer the church, you know'-- and 'he so ancient, too! but 'tis an old rat that won't eat cheese,' and so forth.
Just as Mrs.Irons whisked round for the seventh time to start upon her long threatened march to Dr.Walsingham's study to lay her pitiful case before him, Captain Devereux, who was looking toward the 'Phoenix,' saw the truant clerk and Mr.Dangerfield turn the corner together on their return.
'Stay, Madam, here comes the traitor,' said he; 'and, on my honour, 'tis worse than we thought; for he has led my Lord Castlemallard's old agent into mischief too--and Meg Partlet has had two swains at her feet this morning; and, see, the hypocrites have got some trout in their basket, and their rods on their shoulders--and look, for all the world, as if they had only been fishing--sly rogues!' 'Well, it's all one,' said Mrs.Irons, gaping from the other window, and sobering rapidly; 'if 'tisn't to-day, 'twill be to-morrow, I suppose; and at any rate 'tis a sin and shame to leave any poor crature in this miserable taking, not knowing but he might be drownded--or worse--dear knows it would not be much trouble to tell his wife when the gentleman wanted him--and sure for any honest matter I'd never say against it.' Her thoughts were running upon Dangerfield, and what 'compliment' he had probably made her husband at parting; and a minute or two after this, Devereux saw her, with her riding-hood on, trudging up to the "Salmon House" to make inquisition after the same..