the French woman, fixing her keen
black eyes on the thunder-struck Cleveland.

"It's all right--pay her up!" said Mr. Cleveland.

"Not till I know what the debt was incurred for."

"I can't tell you," said Mr. Cleveland.

"I insist," said Mrs. Cleveland, stamping her foot.

"Then I won't tell--if you die!" said the rebellious Cleveland.

"I shall trouble you, ma'am, to leave my house," said the irritated
mistress of the mansion. "Not one farthing on that note do you get out
of me."

"Then I shall be under the unpleasant necessity of taking legal
measures to obtain the debt," said the French woman, rising. "Mr.
Cleveland, I wish you very much happiness with your amiable lady."

There was a storm--a regular equinoctial gale--after the departure of
Madame St. Germain. Mrs. Cleveland was very provoking, and Mr.
Cleveland indulged in epithets unbecoming a scholar and a gentleman.
That night the "happy couple" luxuriated in separate apartments. The
next day came a lawyer's letter, then a civil process, and finally Mr.
John Cleveland was marched off to Leverett Street jail, where, after
giving due notice to his creditor and obtaining bail, he was allowed
the benefit of the "limits," with the privilege of "swearing out," at
the expiration of thirty days.

Jack engaged lodging at a little tavern, on the limits, where he found
Frank Aikin, who had run through _his_ "pile," and a few kindred
spirits of the fast young men school enacting the part of "gentlemen
in difficulties." Cigars, champagne, and cards were ordered, and Jack
became a fast young man once more. Towards the small hours of the
morning, he forgot having married a widow, and thinking himself a
bachelor, he proposed the health of a certain Miss Julia Vining, which
was drank with three times three. The next morning, he sat down to a
capital breakfast, with more fast young men, and for a whole week he
enjoyed himself _en garcon_, without once thinking of the forsaken
Dido in Beacon Street.

One day, however, when he had exhausted his cash and credit, and a
racking headache induced him to regret the speed of his late life, a
carriage rattled up to the door of the tavern, his own door was
shortly after thrown open, and a lady flung herself into his arms.
Mrs. Cleveland looked really fascinating.

"Come home, my dear Jack," said she, bursting into tears; "I've been
so lonely without you."

"Not so fast, Mrs. Cleveland," said the young gentleman, as he
perc