running. Isn't that his theory, Miss Dale?"

"I'm sure I don't know, Lord De Guest. At any rate, it isn't mine."

So they went to their feast, and before his last chance was over John
Eames found himself able to go through the pretence of enjoying his
roast mutton.

There can, I think, be no doubt that in all such calamities as
that which he was now suffering, the agony of the misfortune is
much increased by the conviction that the facts of the case are
known to those round about the sufferer. A most warm-hearted and
intensely-feeling young gentleman might, no doubt, eat an excellent
dinner after being refused by the girl of his devotions, provided
that he had reason to believe that none of those in whose company he
ate it knew anything of his rejection. But the same warm-hearted and
intensely-feeling young gentleman would find it very difficult to
go through the ceremony with any appearance of true appetite or
gastronomic enjoyment, if he were aware that all his convives knew
all the facts of his little misfortune. Generally, we may suppose,
a man in such condition goes to his club for his dinner, or seeks
consolation in the shades of some adjacent Richmond or Hampton Court.
There he meditates on his condition in silence, and does ultimately
enjoy his little plate of whitebait, his cutlet and his moderate pint
of sherry. He probably goes alone to the theatre, and, in his stall,
speculates with a somewhat bitter sarcasm on the vanity of the
world. Then he returns home, sad indeed, but with a moderated
sadness, and as he puffs out the smoke of his cigar at the open
window,--with perhaps the comfort of a little brandy-and-water at
his elbow,--swears to himself that, "By Jove, he'll have another
try for it." Alone, a man may console himself, or among a crowd of
unconscious mortals; but it must be admitted that the position of
John Eames was severe. He had been invited down there to woo Lily
Dale, and the squire and Bell had been asked to be present at the
wooing. Had it all gone well, nothing could have been nicer. He would
have been the hero of the hour, and everybody would have sung for him
his song of triumph. But everything had not gone well, and he found
it very difficult to carry himself otherwise than lackadaisically. On
the whole, however, his effort was such that the earl gave him credit
for his demeanour, and told him when parting with him for the night
that he was a fine fellow, and that everything should go