es it."

"Be it so," returned Disbrowe, seizing the box. And as he shook the dice
with a frenzied air, the major and Lydyard drew near the table, and even
Wyvil roused himself to watch the result.

"Twelve!" cried Disbrowe, as he removed the box. "My honour is saved! My
fortune retrieved--Huzza!"

"Not so fast," returned Parravicin, shaking the box in his turn. "You
were a little too hasty," he added, uncovering the dice. "I am twelve,
too. We must throw again."

"This to decide," cried the young officer, again rattling the dice.
"Six!"

Parravicin smiled, took the box, and threw ten.

"Perdition!" ejaculated Disbrowe, striking his brow with his clenched
hand. "What devil tempted me to my undoing?--My wife trusted to this
profligate! Horror!--it must not be!"

"It is too late to retract," replied Parravicin, taking up the key, and
turning with a triumphant look to his friends.

Disbrowe noticed the smile, and stung beyond endurance, drew his sword,
and called to the knight to defend himself.

In an instant, passes were exchanged. But the conflict was brief.
Fortune, as before, declared herself in favour of Parravicin. He
disarmed his assailant, who rushed out of the room, uttering the wildest
ejaculations of rage and despair.

"I told you you should have your revenge," observed the knight to
Pillichody, as soon as Disbrowe was gone. "Is his wife really as
beautiful as you represent her?"

"Words are too feeble to paint her charms," replied the major. "Shafts
of Cupid! she must be seen to be appreciated."

"Enough!" returned Parravicin. "I have not made a bad night's work of
it, so far. I'faith, Wyvil, I pity you. To lose a heavy wager is
provoking enough--but to lose a pretty mistress is the devil."

"I have lost neither yet," replied Wyvil, who had completely recovered
his spirits, and joined in the general merriment occasioned by the
foregoing occurrence. "I have been baffled, not defeated. What say you
to an exchange of mistresses? I am so diverted with your adventure, that
I am half inclined to give you the grocer's daughter for Disbrowe's
wife. She is a superb creature--languid as a Circassian, and passionate
as an Andalusian."

"I can't agree to the exchange, especially after your rapturous
description," returned Parravicin, "but I'll stake Mrs. Disbrowe against
Amabel. The winner shall have both. A single cast shall decide, as
before."

"No," replied Wyvil, "I could not resign Amabel, if I los