ed I, yelling still more wildly; "nothing more witty than
usual."

"Don't be severe, George," said he, with a mortified air; and we drove
on to B---- House.

*****

There must have been something strange and wild in my appearance, and
those awful black plumes, as I passed through the crowd; for I observed
people looking and making a strange nasal noise (it is called sniffing,
and I have no other more delicate term for it), and making way as
I pushed on. But I moved forward very fiercely, for the wine, the
Maraschino, the eau-de-Cologne, and the--the excitement had rendered me
almost wild; and at length I arrived at the place where my lovely Lady
of the Lake and her Harper stood. How beautiful she looked,--all eyes
were upon her as she stood blushing. When she saw me, however; her
countenance assumed an appearance of alarm. "Good heavens, George!" she
said, stretching her hand to me, "what makes you look so wild and pale?"
I advanced, and was going to take her hand, when she dropped it with a
scream.

"Ah--ah--ah!" she said. "Mr. Fitz-Boodle, you've been smoking!"

There was an immense laugh from four hundred people round about us, and
the scoundrelly Dawdley joined in the yell. I rushed furiously out,
and, as I passed, hurtled over the fat Hereditary Prince of
Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel.

"Es riecht hier ungeheuer stark von Tabak!" I heard his Highness say, as
I madly flung myself through the aides-de-camp.

The next day Mary M'Alister, in a note full of the most odious good
sense and sarcasm, reminded me of our agreement; said that she was quite
convinced that we were not by any means fitted for one another, and
begged me to consider myself henceforth quite free. The little wretch
had the impertinence to send me a dozen boxes of cigars, which, she
said, would console me for my lost love; as she was perfectly certain
that I was not mercenary, and that I loved tobacco better than any woman
in the world.

I believe she was right, though I have never to this day been able to
pardon the scoundrelly stratagem by which Dawdley robbed me of a wife
and won one himself. As I was lying on his sofa, looking at the moon and
lost in a thousand happy contemplations, Lord Dawdley, returning
from the tailor's, saw me smoking at my leisure. On entering his
dressing-room, a horrible treacherous thought struck him. "I must not
betray my friend," said he; "but in love all is fair, and he shall
betray himself." There were my tartan