m all affectation.

For a while Beecher bestowed a watchful attention on Spicer, uneasy lest
by some adroit piece of malice he might either irritate Lizzy or lead
her covertly into some imprudent disclosures; but he soon saw that
it would have required a hardier spirit than Mr. Spicer's to have
adventured on impertinence in that quarter, and, lighting his cigar, he
sat moodily down by the window to think on the future.

Left with the field thus open, Spicer canvassed within himself how best
to profit by the opportunity. Should he declare himself an old friend
of her father's,--his associate and his colleague? Should he dexterously
intimate that, knowing all about her family and antecedents, she could
not do better than secure his friendship? Should he not also slyly
suggest that, married to a man like Beecher, the counsels of one prudent
and wily as himself would prove invaluable? "Now or never," thought he,
as he surveyed her pale features, and interpreted their expression as
implying timidity and fear.

"Your first visit to Rome, I believe?" said he, as he searched for a
cigar amidst the heap on the table.

A cold assent followed.

"Wonderful place; not merely for its old monuments and ruins, though
they are curious too, but its strange society,--all nations and all
ranks of each mixed and mingled together: great swells and snobs,
grand ladies, princes, cardinals and ambassadors, thrown together with
artistes, gamblers, and fast ones of either sex,--a regular fair of fine
company, with, plenty of amusement and lots of adventure."

"Indeed!" said she, languidly.

"Just the place your father would like," said he, dropping his voice to
a half-whisper.

"In what way, pray?" asked she, quietly.

"Why, in the way of trade, of course," said he, laughing. "For the
fine-lady part of the matter he 'd not care for it,--that never was
his line of country,--but for the young swells that thought themselves
sporting characters, for the soft young gents that fancied they
could play, Grog was always ready. I ask your pardon for the familiar
nickname, but we 've known each other about thirty years. He always
called me Ginger. Haven't you heard him speak of old Ginger?"

"Never, sir."

"Strange that; but perhaps he did not speak of his pals to you?"

"No, never."

"That was so like him. I never saw his equal to hunt over two different
kinds of country. He could get on the top of a bus and go down to St.
John's Wood, or