ightened eyes showed
what their amusement had been. Many gentlemen's cheeks were in the habit
of flushing in those days, and from the same cause.

Madame Bernstein received her nephew's chaplain kindly enough. The old
lady relished Sampson's broad jokes and rattling talk from time to time,
as she liked a highly-spiced dish or a new entree composed by her cook,
upon its two or three first appearances. The only amusement of which she
did not grow tired, she owned, was cards. "The cards don't cheat," she
used to say. "A bad hand tells you the truth to your face: and there is
nothing so flattering in the world as a good suite of trumps." And when
she was in a good humour, and sitting down to her favourite pastime, she
would laughingly bid her nephew's chaplain say grace before the meal.
Honest Sampson did not at first care to take a hand at Tunbridge Wells.
Her ladyship's play was too high for him, he would own, slapping his
pocket with a comical piteous look, and its contents had already been
handed over to the fortunate youth at Castlewood. Like most persons of
her age, and indeed her sex, Madame Bernstein was not prodigal of money.
I suppose it must have been from Harry Warrington, whose heart was
overflowing with generosity as his purse with guineas, that the chaplain
procured a small stock of ready coin, with which he was presently
enabled to appear at the card-table.

Our young gentleman welcomed Mr. Sampson to his coin, as to all the rest
of the good things which he had gathered about him. 'Twas surprising how
quickly the young Virginian adapted himself to the habits of life of
the folks amongst whom he lived. His suits were still black, but of the
finest cut and quality. "With a star and ribbon, and his stocking down,
and his hair over his shoulder, he would make a pretty Hamlet," said the
gay old Duchess Queensberry. "And I make no doubt he has been the death
of a dozen Ophelias already, here and amongst the Indians," she added,
thinking not at all the worse of Harry for his supposed successes among
the fair. Harry's lace and linen were as fine as his aunt could desire.
He purchased fine shaving-plate of the toy-shop women, and a couple of
magnificent brocade bedgowns, in which his worship lolled at ease, and
sipped his chocolate of a morning. He had swords and walking-canes, and
French watches with painted backs and diamond settings, and snuff boxes
enamelled by artists of the same cunning nation. He had a levee o