ding in some vision of Randolph. And it was
probably from such anticipations that she derived the seeming
animation which perplexed her sister at this parting interview.

CHAPTER XVI.

_Don John._ Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I
will put it in practice. Be cunning in the working this,
and thy fee is a thousand ducats.

_Borachio_. Be you constant in the accusation, and my
cunning shall not shame me.

SHAKSPEARE.

Already the engagement of Squire Melcomb and Miss Mildred had been a
subject of discussion among the underlings of the establishment in May
Fair, and Michael Sinson, at least, had watched the signs of its
progress with no little interest. The announcement of Mrs. Pendarrel's
immediate departure for Cornwall, and the rumours which circulated
that there the marriage would be hurried forward as fast as possible,
struck him with new apprehension, as he feared that the great prize
for which he was playing might slip through his hands, merely from
want of time to develop his game. At all events, the move prevented
him from indulging in the finesse which at once advanced his object
and gratified his vanity. Forward play was his only chance, and he
determined not to be defeated for want of boldness.

Sinson had fastened his clutches firmly upon the spendthrift, Everope.
It is so sadly easy to seduce, where the victim is prepared by need
and unfortified by principle. It was in vain that Everope, as often as
the tempter forced a new obligation upon him, vowed that he would only
use it to support himself until he could obtain some employment, and
would then, by extreme parsimony, save enough to repay his insidious
creditor. The idea always came, and was always chased away by the
superior fascinations of the light pack and rattling main. He could
not be unlucky for ever. The first time fortune favoured him, he would
satisfy Sinson's claim, break off the acquaintance, and abjure gaming
for once and for all.

Fortune, however, frowned upon her votary with great perseverance. One
morning, after a turn of ill luck, when, in desponding apathy,
wringing his hands and calling upon Hercules, he was thinking of
breaking with Sinson, cost what it might, that individual crossed his
path, and accosted him.

"What! is the goddess always blind, Everope? Nothing to be done at the
Rooms?"

"I shall go there no more," said the spendthrift s