ides--"

Here Lilburne's countenance assumed a sudden aspect of dark and angry
passion,--he broke off abruptly, rose, and paced the room, muttering
to himself. Suddenly he stopped, and put his hand to his hip, as an
expression of pain again altered the character of his face.

"The limb pains me still! Dykeman--I was scarce twenty-one--when I
became a cripple for life." He paused, drew a long breath, smiled,
rubbed his hands gently, and added: "Never fear--you shall be the ass;
and thus Philip of Macedon begins to fill the pannier." And he tossed
his purse into the hands of the valet, whose face seemed to lose its
anxious embarrassment at the touch of the gold. Lilburne glanced at him
with a quiet sneer: "Go!--I will give you my orders when I undress."

"Yes!" he repeated to himself, "the limb pains me still. But he
died!--shot as a man would shoot a jay or a polecat!

"I have the newspaper still in that drawer. He died an outcast--a
felon--a murderer! And I blasted his name--and I seduced his
mistress--and I--am John Lord Lilburne!"

About ten o'clock, some half-a-dozen of those gay lovers of London,
who, like Lilburne, remain faithful to its charms when more vulgar
worshippers desert its sunburnt streets--mostly single men--mostly men
of middle age--dropped in. And soon after came three or four high-born
foreigners, who had followed into England the exile of the unfortunate
Charles X. Their looks, at once proud and sad--their moustaches curled
downward--their beards permitted to grow--made at first a strong
contrast with the smooth gay Englishmen. But Lilburne, who was fond
of French society, and who, when he pleased, could be courteous and
agreeable, soon placed the exiles at their ease; and, in the excitement
of high play, all differences of mood and humour speedily vanished.
Morning was in the skies before they sat down to supper.

"You have been very fortunate to-night, milord," said one of the
Frenchmen, with an envious tone of congratulation.

"But, indeed," said another, who, having been several times his host's
partner, had won largely, "you are the finest player, milord, I ever
encountered."

"Always excepting Monsieur Deschapelles and--," replied Lilburne,
indifferently. And, turning the conversation, he asked one of the
guests why he had not introduced him to a French officer of merit and
distinction; "With whom," said Lord Lilburne, "I understand that you are
intimate, and of whom I hear your count