o John-Bull feeling among our
set, and we 're paying a smart price for it. Never trust those German
fellows, George. Out of England there is no truth, no honor. But, above
all, don't back against the field; there are so many dodges against you;
so many 'dark horses' come out fair. That 's it, you see; that 's
the way I got it so heavily; for when Ruxton came and told me that
'Help-me-Over' was dead lame, I believed him. A fetlock lameness is no
trifle, you know; and there was a swelling as large as my hand around
the coronet. The foreign fellows can manage that in the morning, and
the horse will run to win the same day. I saw it myself. Ah, John
Bull forever! No guile, no deceit in him. Mind me, George, I make this
confession for you alone. I 'll not stoop to repeat it. If any man
dare to insinuate anything to my discredit, I 'll never give myself the
trouble of one word of explanation, but nail him to it, twelve paces,
and no mistake. I don't think my right hand has forgot its cunning. Have
him out at once, George; parade him on the spot, my boy; that 's the
only plan. What! is this your quarter?" asked he, as they stopped at the
entrance of the spacious palace. "I used to know this house well of old.
It was the Embassy in Templeton's time. Very snug it used to be. Glad to
see you 've banished all those maimed old deities that used to line
the staircase, and got rid of that tiresome tapestry, too. Pretty
vases those; fresh-looking that conservatory, they 're always strong in
camellias in Florence. This used to be the billiard-room. I think you've
made a good alteration; it looks better as a salon. Ah, I like this,
excellent taste that chintz furniture; just the thing for Italy, and
exactly what nobody thought of before!"

"I'll see if my Lady be visible," said George, as he threw the "Morning
Post" to his friend, and hastily quitted the chamber.

Norwood was no sooner left alone than he proceeded to take a leisurely
survey of the apartment, in the course of which his attention was
arrested by a water-color drawing, representing a young girl leaning
over a balcony, and which he had no difficulty in at once guessing to be
Kate Dalton. There was something in the character of her beauty an air
of almost daring haughtiness that seemed to strike his fancy; for, as
he gazed, he drew himself up to his full height, and seemed to assume in
his own features the proud expression of the portrait.

"With a hundred thousand and tha