r of plaid trews, and very neat pumps with shoe-buckles, my
courage failed me as to the rest of the dress, and taking down one of
his dressing-gowns, I went down stairs to the study, to wait until he
should arrive.

The windows of the pretty room were open, and a snug sofa, with
innumerable cushions, drawn towards one of them. A great tranquil moon
was staring into the chamber, in which stood, amidst books and all
sorts of bachelor's lumber, a silver tray with a couple of tall Venice
glasses, and a bottle of Maraschino bound with straw. I can see now the
twinkle of the liquor in the moonshine, as I poured it into the glass;
and I swallowed two or three little cups of it, for my spirits were
downcast. Close to the tray of Maraschino stood--must I say it?--a box,
a mere box of cedar, bound rudely together with pink paper, branded with
the name of "Hudson" on the side, and bearing on the cover the arms of
Spain. I thought I would just take up the box and look in it.

Ah heaven! there they were--a hundred and fifty of them, in calm,
comfortable rows: lovingly side by side they lay, with the great moon
shining down upon them--thin at the tip, full in the waist,
elegantly round and full, a little spot here and there shining upon
them--beauty-spots upon the cheek of Sylvia. The house was quite quiet.
Dawdley always smoked in his room--I had not smoked for four months and
eleven days.

*****

When Lord Dawdley came into the study, he did not make any remarks; and
oh, how easy my heart felt! He was dressed in his green and boots, after
Westall's picture, correctly.

"It's time to be off, George," said he; "they told me you were dressed
long ago. Come up, my man, and get ready."

I rushed up into the dressing-room, and madly dashed my head and arms
into a pool of eau-de-Cologne. I drank, I believe, a tumberful of it. I
called for my clothes, and, strange to say, they were gone. My servant
brought them, however, saying that he had put them away--making some
stupid excuse. I put them on, not heeding them much, for I was half
tipsy with the excitement of the ci-- of the smo-- of what had taken
place in Dawdley's study, and with the Maraschino and the eau-de-Cologue
I had drunk.

"What a fine odor of lavender-water!" said Dawdley, as we rode in the
carriage.

I put my head out of the window and shrieked out a laugh; but made no
other reply.

"What's the joke, George?" said Dawdley. "Did I say anything witty?"

"No," cri