gh the trees! Look
yonder, Lizzy, where all the lamps are glittering. Many a sad night it
cost me, gay as it appears."

Mr. Bauer withdrew as the dessert was placed on the table, and they were
alone.

"Rich fellow that Bauer," said Beecher; "he lends more money than any
Jew in Frankfort. I wonder whether I could n't tempt him to advance me a
few hundreds?"

"Do you want money, then?" asked she, unsuspectingly.

"Want it? No, not exactly, except that every one wants it; people always
find a way to spend all they can lay their hands on."

"I don't call that wanting it," said she, half coldly.

"Play me something, Lizzy, here's a piano; that Sicilian song,--and sing
it." He held out his hand to lead her to the piano, but she only drew
her shawl more closely around her, and never moved. "Or, if you like
better, that Styrian dance," continued he.

"I am not in the humor," said she, calmly.

"Not in the humor? Well, be in the humor. I was never in better spirits
in my life. I would n't change with Davis when he won the Czarewitch.
Such a dinner as old Bauer gave us, and such wine! and then this coffee,
not to speak of the company,--eh, Lizzy?"

"Yes, Mr. Bauer was most agreeable."

"I was n't talking of Mr. Bauer, _ma chere_, I was thinking of some one
else."

"I did n't know," said she, with a half-weary sigh.

Beecher's cheek flushed up, and he walked to the window and looked out;
meanwhile she took up a book and began to read. Along the alley beneath
the window troops of people now passed towards the rooms. The hour of
play had sounded, and the swell of the band could be heard from the
space in front of the Cursaal. As his eyes followed the various
groups ascending the steps and disappearing within the building, his
imagination pictured the scene inside.

There was always a kind of rush to the tables on the last few nights of
the season. It was a sort of gamblers' theory that they were "lucky,"
and Beecher began to con over to himself all the fortunate fellows who
had broken the bank in the last week of a season. "I told old Grog I 'd
not go," muttered he; "I pledged myself I'd not enter the rooms; but, of
course, that meant I 'd not play,--it never contemplated mere looking in
and seeing who was there: rather too hard if I were not to amuse myself,
particularly when"--here he turned a glance towards Lizzy--"I don't
perceive any very great desire to make the evening pass pleasantly here.
Ain't you going to