Blandish heard from Adrian that Richard was positively going to his
wife. The wise youth modestly veiled his own merit in bringing it about
by saying: "I couldn't see that poor little woman left alone down there
any longer."

"Well! Yes!" said Mrs. Doria, to whom the modest speech was repeated, "I
suppose, poor boy, it's the best he can do now."

Richard bade them adieu, and went to spend his last evening with Mrs.
Mount.

The enchantress received him in state.

"Do you know this dress? No? It's the dress I wore when I first met
you--not when I first saw you. I think I remarked you, sir, before you
deigned to cast an eye upon humble me. When we first met we drank
champagne together, and I intend to celebrate our parting in the same
liquor. Will you liquor with me, old boy?"

She was gay. She revived Sir Julius occasionally. He, dispirited, left
the talking all to her.

Mrs. Mount kept a footman. At a late hour the man of calves dressed the
table for supper. It was a point of honour for Richard to sit down to it
and try to eat. Drinking, thanks to the kindly mother nature, who loves
to see her children made fools of, is always an easier matter. The
footman was diligent; the champagne corks feebly recalled the file-firing
at Richmond.

"We'll drink to what we might have been, Dick," said the enchantress.

Oh, the glorious wreck she looked.

His heart choked as he gulped the buzzing wine.

"What! down, my boy?" she cried. "They shall never see me hoist signals
of distress. We must all die, and the secret of the thing is to die game,
by Jove! Did you ever hear of Laura Fern? a superb girl! handsomer than
your humble servant--if you'll believe it--a 'Miss' in the bargain, and
as a consequence, I suppose, a much greater rake. She was in the
hunting-field. Her horse threw her, and she fell plump on a stake. It
went into her left breast. All the fellows crowded round her, and one
young man, who was in love with her--he sits in the House of Peers
now--we used to call him `Duck' because he was such a dear--he dropped
from his horse to his knees: 'Laura! Laura! my darling! speak a word to
me!--the last!' She turned over all white and bloody! 'I--I shan't be in
at the death!' and gave up the ghost! Wasn't that dying game? Here's to
the example of Laura Fenn! Why, what's the matter? See! it makes a man
turn pale to hear how a woman can die. Fill the glasses, John. Why,
you're as bad!"

"It's give me a turn, my lady,"