eathing his rapier; and, turning his
back on Michael Lambourne, he walked slowly towards the house. Lambourne
stopped but an instant to gather the nobles which his late companion had
flung towards him so unceremoniously, and muttered to himself, while he
put them upon his purse along with the gratuity of Varney, "I spoke to
yonder gulls of Eldorado. By Saint Anthony, there is no Eldorado for
men of our stamp equal to bonny Old England! It rains nobles, by
Heaven--they lie on the grass as thick as dewdrops--you may have them
for gathering. And if I have not my share of such glittering dewdrops,
may my sword melt like an icicle!"

CHAPTER V.

He was a man
Versed in the world as pilot in his compass.
The needle pointed ever to that interest
Which was his loadstar, and he spread his sails
With vantage to the gale of others' passion.
--THE DECEIVER, A TRAGEDY.

Antony Foster was still engaged in debate with his fair guest, who
treated with scorn every entreaty and request that she would retire to
her own apartment, when a whistle was heard at the entrance-door of the
mansion.

"We are fairly sped now," said Foster; "yonder is thy lord's signal, and
what to say about the disorder which has happened in this household,
by my conscience, I know not. Some evil fortune dogs the heels of that
unhanged rogue Lambourne, and he has 'scaped the gallows against every
chance, to come back and be the ruin of me!"

"Peace, sir," said the lady, "and undo the gate to your master.--My
lord! my dear lord!" she then exclaimed, hastening to the entrance of
the apartment; then added, with a voice expressive of disappointment,
"Pooh! it is but Richard Varney."

"Ay, madam," said Varney, entering and saluting the lady with a
respectful obeisance, which she returned with a careless mixture of
negligence and of displeasure, "it is but Richard Varney; but even the
first grey cloud should be acceptable, when it lightens in the east,
because it announces the approach of the blessed sun."

"How! comes my lord hither to-night?" said the lady, in joyful yet
startled agitation; and Anthony Foster caught up the word, and echoed
the question. Varney replied to the lady, that his lord purposed to
attend her; and would have proceeded with some compliment, when, running
to the door of the parlour, she called aloud, "Janet--Janet! come to my
tiring-room instantly." Then returning to Varney, she asked if her lord