all that's nice!" he added, smacking his
lips, as he filled a glass from a long-necked bottle on the table; "May
the grocer's daughter prove sweeter than her father's plums, and more
melting than his butter! Is she without? Are we to see her?"

Wyvil made no answer, but, walking to the other end of the room, threw
himself into a chair, and, covering his face with his hands, appeared
wrapped in thought. Lydyard took a seat beside him, and endeavoured to
engage him in conversation; but, finding his efforts fruitless, he
desisted.

"Something is wrong," observed Parravicin, to the major. "He has been
foiled in his attempt to carry off the girl. Sedley has won his wager,
and it is a heavy sum. Shall we resume our play?" he added, to Disbrowe.

"I have nothing more to lose," observed the young man, filling a large
goblet to the brim, and emptying it at a draught. "You are master of
every farthing I possess."

"Hum!" exclaimed Parravicin, taking up a pack of cards, and snapping
them between his finger and thumb. "You are married, Captain Disbrowe?"

"What if I am?" cried the young man, becoming suddenly pale; "what if I
am?" he repeated.

"I am told your wife is beautiful," replied Parravicin.

"Beautiful!" ejaculated Pillichody; "by the well-filled coffers of the
widow of Watling-street! she is an angel. Beautiful is not the word:
Mrs. Disbrowe is divine!"

"You have never seen her," said the young man, sternly.

"Ha!--fire and fury! my word doubted," cried the major, fiercely. "I
have seen her at the play-houses, at the Mulberry-garden, at court, and
at church. Not seen her! By the one eye of a Cyclops, but I have! You
shall hear my description of her, and judge of its correctness.
_Imprimis_, she has a tall and majestic figure, and might be a queen for
her dignity."

"Go on," said Disbrowe, by no means displeased with the commencement.

"Secondly," pursued Pillichody, "she has a clear olive complexion,
bright black eyes, hair and brows to match, a small foot, a pretty
turn-up nose, a dimpling cheek, a mole upon her throat, the rosiest lips
imaginable, an alluring look--"

"No more," interrupted Disbrowe. "It is plain you have never seen her."

"Unbelieving pagan!" exclaimed the major, clapping his hand furiously
upon his sword. "I have done more--I have spoken with her."

"A lie!" replied Disbrowe, hurling a dice-box at his head.

"Ha!" roared Pillichody, in a voice of thunder, and pushing back his
chair