every newspaper?"

"Yes, my Lady, he is the notorious"--he was going to say "Grog," but
corrected himself, and added--"Captain Davis, and has been for years
back the intimate associate of the present Lord Lackington."

Mr. Spicer was really enjoying himself on this occasion, nor was it
often his fortune to give her Ladyship so much annoyance innocuously.
His self-indulgence, however, carried him too far; for Lady Lackington,
suddenly turning round, caught the expression of gratified malice on his
face.

"Take care, sir,--take care," she cried, with a menacing gesture of her
finger. "There may chance to be a flaw somewhere in your narrative; and
if there should, Mr. Spicer,--if there should,--I don't _think_ Lord
Lackington would forget it,--I am _sure I_ sha'n't." And with this
threatening declaration her Ladyship swept out of the room in most
haughty fashion.

"This is all what comes of being obliging," exclaimed Spicer, unable
to control himself any longer. "It was not _I_ that threw Beecher into
Grog's company,--it was not _I_ that made him marry Grog's daughter. For
all that _I_ cared, he might go and be a monk at La Trappe, or marry as
many wives as Brigham Young himself."

"I hope you brought me Lady Gertrude Oscot's book, Mr. Spicer,--'Rays
through Oriel Windows'?" said Lady Grace, in one of her sweetest voices.
"She is such a charming poetess."

"I'd lay my life on't, she's just as wide-awake as her father," muttered
Spicer to himself.

"As wide-awake? Dear me, what can you mean?"

"That's she's fly--up to trap--oh, is n't she!" went he on, still
communing to himself.

"Lady Gertrude Oscot, sir?"

"No; but Grog Davis's daughter,--the new Viscountess Lackington,--my
Lady. I was thinking of _her_," said Spicer, suddenly recalled to a
sense of where he stood.

"I protest, sir, I cannot understand how two persons so totally
dissimilar could occur to any mind at the same moment." And with this
Lady Grace gathered up the details of her embroidery, and courtesying a
deep and formal adieu, left the room.

"Haven't I gone and done it with both of them!" said Spicer, as he took
out his cigar-case to choose a cigar; not that he had the slightest
intention of lighting it in such a place,--no profanity of the kind ever
occurred to him,--all he meant was the mock bravado to himself of an
act that seemed to imply so much coolness, such collected courage. As to
striking a light, he 'd as soon have done it in a