hill. Lying there, and
meditating, he became aware of voices conversing.

"What does he want?" said a woman's voice. "It's another of his
villanies, I know. Upon my honour, Brayder, when I think of what I have
to reproach him for, I think I must go mad, or kill him."

"Tragic!" said the Hon. Peter. "Haven't you revenged yourself, Bella,
pretty often? Best deal openly. This is a commercial transaction. You ask
for money, and you are to have it--on the conditions: double the sum, and
debts paid."

"He applies to me!"

"You know, my dear Bella, it has long been all up between you. I think
Mount has behaved very well, considering all he knows. He's not easily
hoodwinked, you know. He resigns himself to his fate and follows other
game."

"Then the condition is, that I am to seduce this young man?"

"My dear Bella! you strike your bird like a hawk. I didn't say seduce.
Hold him in--play with him. Amuse him."

"I don't understand half-measures."

"Women seldom do."

"How I hate you, Brayder!"

"I thank your ladyship."

The two walked farther. Ripton had heard some little of the colloquy. He
left the spot in a serious mood, apprehensive of something dark to the
people he loved, though he had no idea of what the Hon. Peter's
stipulation involved.

On the voyage back to town, Richard was again selected to sit by Mrs.
Mount. Brayder and Adrian started the jokes. The pair of parasites got on
extremely well together. Soft fell the plash of the oars; softly the
moonlight curled around them; softly the banks glided by. The ladies were
in a state of high sentiment. They sang without request. All deemed the
British ballad-monger an appropriate interpreter of their emotions. After
good wine, and plenty thereof, fair throats will make men of taste
swallow that remarkable composer. Eyes, lips, hearts; darts and smarts
and sighs; beauty, duty; bosom, blossom; false one, farewell! To this
pathetic strain they melted. Mrs. Mount, though strongly requested,
declined to sing. She preserved her state. Under the tall aspens of
Brentford-ait, and on they swept, the white moon in their wake. Richard's
hand lay open by his side. Mrs. Mount's little white hand by misadventure
fell into it. It was not pressed, or soothed for its fall, or made
intimate with eloquent fingers. It lay there like a bit of snow on the
cold ground. A yellow leaf wavering down from the aspens struck Richard's
cheek, and he drew away the very hand to throw bac