to how the struggle was
to end.

It is no part of our object to follow the changing fortunes of that long
contest, nor watch the vacillating chances which alternately elevated
to hope and lowered to very desperation. Before the day began to dawn,
every player, save the Duke, had ceased to bet. Some, worn out and
exhausted, had sunk to sleep upon the rich ottomans; others, drinking
deep of champagne, seemed anxious to forget everything. Frobisher,
utterly ruined, sat in the same place at the table, mechanically marking
the game, on which he had no longer a stake, and muttering exclamations
of joy or disappointment at imaginary gains and losses, for he still
fancied that he was betting large sums, and participating in all the
varying emotions of a gambler's life.

The luck of the bank continued. Play how he would, boldly "back the
color," or try to suit the fitful fortunes of the game, the Duke went on
losing.

Were such an ordeal one to evoke admiration, it could scarcely be
withheld from him, who, with an unwearied brain and unbroken temper, sat
patiently there, fighting foot to foot, contesting every inch of ground,
and even in defeat, preserving the calm equanimity of his high breeding.

Behind his chair stood Linton,--a flush of triumph on his cheek as he
continued to behold the undeviating course of luck that attended the
bank, "Another deal like that," muttered he, "and I shall quarter the
arms of Marlier with Linton."

The words were scarcely uttered, when a deep sigh broke from the
Duke--it was the first that had escaped him--and he buried his head
between his hands. Rica looked over at Linton, and a slight, almost
imperceptible, motion of his eyebrows signalled that the battle was nigh
over.

"Well! how is the game? Am I betting?--what's the color?" said the Duke,
passing his clammy hand across his brow.

"I am waiting for you, my Lord Duke," said Rica, obsequiously.

"I am ready--quite ready," cried the other. "Am I the only player? I
fancied that some others were betting. Where's my Lord Charles?--ah! I
see him. And Mr. Linton--is he gone?"

"He has just left the room, my Lord Duke. Will you excuse me if I follow
him for an instant?" And at the same moment Rica arose, and left the
chamber with hasty steps.

It was at the end of a long corridor, tapping gently at a door, Linton
stood, as Rica came up.

"What! is't over already?" said Linton, with a look of angry impatience.

"This is not fair,