ch. I dare say he never quite forgave Van
Twiller for calling him Muslin Delaney. Ned is fond of ladies' society,
and that's a fact.

The Cimmerian darkness which surrounded Van Twiller's inamorata left
us free to indulge in the wildest conjectures. Whether she was
black-tressed Melpomene, with bowl and dagger, or Thalia, with the fair
hair and the laughing face, was only to be guessed at. It was popularly
conceded, however, that Van Twiller was on the point of forming a
dreadful _mesalliance_.

Up to this period he had visited the club regularly. Suddenly he ceased
to appear. He was not to be seen on Fifth Avenue, or in the Central
Park, or at the houses he generally frequented. His chambers--and mighty
comfortable chambers they were--on Thirty-fourth Street were deserted.
He had dropped out of the world, shot like a bright particular star from
his orbit in the heaven of the best society.

The following conversation took place one night in the smoking-room:--

"Where's Van Twiller?"

"Who's seen Van Twiller?"

"What has become of Van Twiller?"

Delaney picked up the Evening Post, and read--with a solemnity that
betrayed young Firkins into exclaiming, "By Jove, now!"--

"Married, on the 10th instant, by the Rev. Friar Laurence, at the
residence of the bride's uncle, Montague Capulet, Esq., Miss Adrienne Le
Couvreur to Mr. Ralph Van Twiller, both of this city. No cards."

"Free List suspended," murmured De Peyster.

"It strikes me," said Frank Livingstone, who had been ruffling the
leaves of a magazine at the other end of the table, "that you fellows
are in a great fever about Van Twiller."

"So we are."

"Well, he has simply gone out of town."

"Where?"

"Up to the old homestead on the Hudson."

"It's an odd time of year for a fellow to go into the country."

"He has gone to visit his mother," said Livingstone.

"In February?"

"I did n't know, Delaney, that there was any statute in force
prohibiting a man from visiting his mother in February if he wants to."

Delaney made some light remark about the pleasure of communing with
Nature with a cold in her head, and the topic was dropped.

Livingstone was hand in glove with Van Twilier, and if any man shared
his confidence it was Livingstone. He was aware of the gossip and
speculation that had been rife in the club, but he either was not at
liberty or did not think it worth while to relieve our curiosity. In the
course of a week or two it was repor