prevent any possibility of this dream's coming to pass, by not leaving my lady to the care of the colonel; if you must go from her, certainly there are other places where she may be with great safety; and, since my wife tells me that my lady is so very unwilling, whatever reasons she may have, I hope your honour will oblige her.'
'Now I recollect it,' cries Booth, 'Mrs. Atkinson hath once or twice dropt some disrespectful words of the colonel. He hath done something to disoblige her.'
'He hath indeed, sir,' replied the serjeant: 'he hath said that of her which she doth not deserve, and for which, if he had not been my superior officer, I would have cut both his ears off. Nay, for that matter, he can speak ill of other people besides her.'
'Do you know, Atkinson,' cries Booth, very gravely, 'that you are talking of the dearest friend I have?'
'To be honest then,' answered the serjeant, 'I do not think so. If I did, I should love him much better than I do.'
'I must and will have this explained,' cries Booth. 'I have too good an opinion of you, Atkinson, to think you would drop such things as you have without some reason--and I will know it.'
'I am sorry I have dropt a word,' cries Atkinson. 'I am sure I did not intend it; and your honour hath drawn it from me unawares.'
'Indeed, Atkinson,' cries Booth, 'you have made me very uneasy, and I must be satisfied.'
'Then, sir,' said the serjeant, 'you shall give me your word of honour, or I will be cut into ten thousand pieces before I will mention another syllable.'
'What shall I promise?' said Booth.
'That you will not resent anything I shall lay to the colonel,' answered Atkinson.
'Resent!--Well, I give you my honour,' said Booth.
The serjeant made him bind himself over and over again, and then related to him the scene which formerly past between the colonel and himself, as far as concerned Booth himself; but concealed all that more immediately related to Amelia.
'Atkinson,' cries Booth, 'I cannot be angry with you, for I know you love me, and I have many obligations to you; but you have done wrong in censuring the colonel for what he said of me. I deserve all that he said, and his censures proceeded from his friendship.'
'But it was not so kind, sir,' said Atkinson, 'to say such things to me who am but a serjeant, and at such a time too.'
'I will hear no more,' cries Booth. 'Be assured you are the only man I would forgive on this occasion; and I forgive you only on condition you never speak a word more of this nature. This silly dream hath intoxicated you.'
'I have done, sir,' cries the serjeant. 'I know my distance, and whom I am to obey; but I have one favour to beg of your honour, never to mention a word of what I have said to my lady; for I know she never would forgive me; I know she never would, by what my wife hath told me. Besides, you need not mention it, sir, to my lady, for she knows it all already, and a great deal more.'
Booth presently parted from the serjeant, having desired him to close his lips on this occasion, and repaired to his wife, to whom he related the serjeant's dream.
Amelia turned as white as snow, and fell into so violent a trembling that Booth plainly perceived her emotion, and immediately partook of it himself. 'Sure, my dear,' said he, staring wildly, 'there is more in this than I know. A silly dream could not so discompose you. I beg you, I intreat you to tell me--hath ever Colonel James--'
At the very mention of the colonel's name Amelia fell on her knees, and begged her husband not to frighten her.
