 nature of such a simple soul as Thomas Newcome to see but one
side of a question, and having once fixed Ethel's worldliness in his mind, and
her brother's treason, to allow no argument of advocates of the other side to
shake his displeasure. Hence the one or two appeals which Laura ventured to make
on behalf of her friend were checked by the good Colonel with a stern negation.
If Ethel was not guiltless, she could not make him see at least that she was not
guilty. He dashed away all excuses and palliations. Exasperated as he was, he
persisted in regarding the poor girl's conduct in its most unfavourable light.
»She was rejected, and deservedly rejected, by the Marquis of Farintosh,« he
broke out to me once, who was not indeed authorized to tell all I knew regarding
the story; »the whole town knows it, all the clubs ring with it. I blush, sir,
to think that my brother's child should have brought such a stain upon our
name.« In vain I told him that my wife, who knew all the circumstances much
better, judged Miss Newcome far more favourably, and indeed greatly esteemed and
loved her. »Pshaw! sir,« breaks out the indignant Colonel; »your wife is an
innocent creature, who does not know the world as we men of experience do - as I
do, sir,« and would have no more of the discussion. There is no doubt about it,
there was a coolness between my old friend's father and us.
    As for Barnes Newcome, we gave up that worthy, and the Colonel showed him no
mercy. He recalled words used by Warrington, which I have recorded in a former
page, and vowed that he only watched for an opportunity to crush the miserable
reptile. He hated Barnes as a loathsome traitor, coward, and criminal. He made
no secret of his opinion; and Clive, with the remembrance of former injuries, of
dreadful heart-pangs - the inheritor of his father's blood, his honesty of
nature, and his impetuous enmity against wrong - shared to the full his sire's
antipathy against his cousin, and publicly expressed his scorn and contempt for
him. About Ethel he would not speak. »Perhaps what you say, Pen, is true,« he
said. »I hope it is. Pray God it is.« But his quivering lips and fierce
countenance, when her name was mentioned or her defence attempted, showed that
he too had come to think ill of her.
