ovely!--If I hear man say thing 'gainst her."

"You needn't for to cry over her, young man," said Mrs. Berry. "I wanted
for to drink their right healths by their right names, and then go about
my day's work, and I do hope you won't keep me."

Ripton stood bolt upright at her words.

"You do?" he said, and filling a bumper he with cheerfully vinous
articulation and glibness of tongue proposed the health of Richard and
Lucy Feverel, of Raynham Abbey! and that mankind should not require an
expeditious example of the way to accept the inspiring toast, he drained
his bumper at a gulp. It finished him. The farthing rushlight of his
reason leapt and expired. He tumbled to the sofa and there stretched.

Some minutes subsequent to Ripton's signalization of his devotion to the
bridal pair, Mrs. Berry's maid entered the room to say that a gentleman
was inquiring below after the young gentleman who had departed, and
found her mistress with a tottering wineglass in her hand, exhibiting
every symptom of unconsoled hysterics. Her mouth gaped, as if the fell
creditor had her by the swallow. She ejaculated with horrible exultation
that she had been and done it, as her disastrous aspect seemed to
testify, and her evident, but inexplicable, access of misery induced
the sympathetic maid to tender those caressing words that were all Mrs.
Berry wanted to go off into the self-caressing fit without delay; and
she had already given the preluding demoniac ironic outburst, when the
maid called heaven to witness that the gentleman would hear her; upon
which Mrs. Berry violently controlled her bosom, and ordered that he
should be shown upstairs instantly to see her the wretch she was. She
repeated the injunction.

The maid did as she was told, and Mrs. Berry, wishing first to see
herself as she was, mutely accosted the looking-glass, and tried to look
a very little better. She dropped a shawl on Ripton and was settled,
smoothing her agitation when her visitor was announced.

The gentleman was Adrian Harley. An interview with Tom Bakewell had
put him on the track, and now a momentary survey of the table, and its
white-vestured cake, made him whistle.

Mrs. Berry plaintively begged him to do her the favour to be seated.

"A fine morning, ma'am," said Adrian.

"It have been!" Mrs. Berry answered, glancing over her shoulder at the
window, and gulping as if to get her heart down from her mouth.

"A very fine Spring," pursued Adrian, calmly ana