At the Exchange I opened the door upon a conversation which, in consequence, broke off abruptly; but this much I came in for:--

"Nothing but the slightest bruise above his eye. The other one is in bed."

It was the severe lady who said this; I mean that lady who, among all the severe ones I had met, seemed capable of the highest exercise of this quality, although she had not exercised it in my presence. She looked, in her veil and her black street dress, as aloof, and as coldly scornful of the present day, as she had seemed when sitting over her embroidery; but it was not of 1818, or even 1840, that she had been talking just now: it was this morning that somebody was bruised, somebody was in bed.

The handsome lady acknowledged my salutation completely, but not encouragingly, and then, on the threshold, exchanged these parting sentences with the girl behind the counter:--

"They will have to shake hands. He was not very willing, but he listened to me. Of course, the chastisement was right--but it does not affect my opinion of his keeping on with the position."