as a gamester still kept up, and my Lord of 'Bergavenny was his very
good lord. These items, also, were most Providential.

The fourth letter informed his father that all his difficulties were at
last surmounted. Providence had rewarded his merits as they deserved.
He was on the eve of marriage.

"To whom?" asked Lady Enville, with languid curiosity.

"To seven thousand pounds," said Sir Thomas dryly; "that is as much as I
can make out of the lad's letter."

The fifth epistle condescended to rather mere detail. Jack's _fiancee_
was the daughter of an Earl, and the niece by marriage of a Viscount.
She had a fortune of seven thousand pounds--that was the cream and
chorus of the whole. But still it did not apparently occur to Jack that
his friends at home might be interested to know the name of his beloved.

"What must we call her?" asked Blanche. "We know not her name."

"And we cannot say `Mistress Jack,' sith she hath a title," added Sir
Thomas.

"`My Lady Jack,'" laughingly suggested Rachel.

And "Lady Jack" the bride was dubbed from that day forth.

The sixth letter was longer in coming. But when it came it was short
and sweet. Jack's nuptials were to be solemnised on the following day,
and he and his bride would start three days later for Enville Court.
There was a general flutter through the family.

"Dear heart! how was Jack donned? I would give a broad shilling to
know!" said Rachel satirically. "In white satin, trow, at the very
least, with a mighty great F on his back, wrought in rubies."

"F, Aunt Rachel!" repeated Blanche innocently. "You mean E, surely.
What should F spell?"

"Thou canst spell aught thou wilt therewith, child," said Rachel coolly,
as she left the room.

"Sir Thomas, I pray you of money," said Lady Enville, rousing up. "We
have nought fit to show."

Sir Thomas glanced at his wife's flowing satin dress, trimmed with
costly lace, and, like an unreasonable man, opined that it was quite
good enough for anything; "This!" exclaimed Lady Enville. "Surely you
cannot mean it, Sir Thomas. This gown is all rags, and hath been made
these four years."

Sir Thomas contemplated the dress again, with a rather puzzled face.

"I see not a patch thereon, Orige. Prithee, be all thy gowns rags?--and
be Clare and Blanche in rags likewise?"

"Of course--not fit to show," said the lady.

"It seemeth me, Orige, thou shouldst have had money aforetime. Yet I
cannot wholly conceive it