d,
it's always the luck of me!" The latter exclamation was the result of a
heavy saugh upon the floor, Mrs. Bingham having fallen in a faint--she
being the identical lady alluded to, and her husband the brother of
pleasant Tom Bingham.

To hurl Mr. O'Leary out of the room by one hand, and ring the bell with
the other, was the work of a moment; and with proper care, and in due
time, Mrs. Bingham was brought to herself, when most fortunately, she
entirely forgot the cause of her sudden indisposition; and, of course,
neither her daughter nor myself suffered any clue to escape us which
might lead to its discovery.

When we were once more upon the road, to efface if it might be necessary
any unpleasant recurrence to the late scene, I proceeded to give Mrs.
Bingham an account of my adventure at Chantraine, in which, of course, I
endeavoured to render my friend O'Leary all the honours of being laughed
at in preference to myself, laying little stress upon my masquerading in
the jack-boots.

"You are quite right," said O'Leary, joining in the hearty laugh against
him, "quite right, I was always a very heavy sleeper--indeed if I wasn't
I wouldn't be here now, travelling about en garcon, free as air;" here he
heaved a sigh, which from its incongruity with his jovial look and happy
expression, threw us all into renewed laughter.

"But why, Mr. O'Leary--what can your sleepiness have to do with such
tender recollections, for such, I am sure, that sigh bespeaks them?"

"Ah! ma'am, it may seem strange, but it is nevertheless true, if it were
not for that unfortunate tendency, I should now be the happy possessor of
a most accomplished and amiable lady, and eight hundred per annum three
and a half per cent. stock."

"You overslept yourself on the wedding-day, I suppose."

"You shall hear, ma'am, the story is a very short one: It is now about
eight years ago, I was rambling through the south of France, and had just
reached Lyons, where the confounded pavement, that sticks up like pears,
with the point upwards, had compelled me to rest some days and recruit;
for this purpose I installed myself in the pension of Madame Gourgead,
Rue de Petits Carmes, a quiet house--where we dined at twelve, ten in
number, upon about two pounds of stewed beef, with garlic and carrots
--a light soup, being the water which accompanied the same to render it
tender in stewing--some preserved cherries, and an omelette, with a pint
bottle of Beaune, 6me q