l acknowledge to be good. Keep my secret for a month; I ask no
longer."

"For a month, then, I am silent," said Tiernay.

"Let me see you to-morrow early," said Cashel. "Will you breakfast with
me?"

"No; I 'll not risk my character by going twice to your grand house in
the same week; besides, I am going to Limerick."

"Good-night, then," said Cashel; "good-night, sir." And with a formal
bow to Hoare, Roland left the room, and took his way homeward alone.

CHAPTER XIII. CIGARS, ECARTE, AND HAZARD

The Devil's back-parlor--a bachelor's room.

Milyard.

While Cashel continued his way homeward, a very joyous party had
assembled in Lord Charles Frobisher's room, who were endeavoring, by
the united merits of cigars, ecarte, hazard, and an excellent supper,
of which they partook at intervals, to compensate themselves for the
unusual dulness of the drawing-room. It is well known how often the
least entertaining individuals in general society become the most
loquacious members of a party assembled in this fashion. The restraints
which had held them in check before are no longer present; their loud
speech and empty laughter are not any longer under ban, and they are
tolerated by better men, pretty much as children are endured, because at
least they are natural.

At a round table in the middle of the room were a group engaged at
hazard. Upton was deep in ecarte with his brother officer, Jennings,
while Frobisher lounged about, sipping weak negus, and making his bets
at either table as fancy or fortune suggested. The supper-table had
few votaries; none, indeed, were seated at it save Meek, who, with
a newspaper on his knee, seemed singularly out of place in the noisy
gathering.

"Eleven's the nick--eleven! I say, Charley, have at you for a pony,"
called out a boyish-looking dragoon, from the middle table.

"You're under age, young gentleman," said Frobisher; "I can't afford
to bet with you. Wait a moment, Upton, I 'll back you this time. Twenty
sovereigns--will you have it?"

"Done!" said Jennings, and the game began.

"The King," cried Upton; "I propose."

"To which of them?" said a sharp-looking infantry captain, behind his
chair.

"Olivia, of course," slipped in Jennings.

"I 'd give fifty pounds to know if they have the money people say,"
cried Upton.

"Meek can tell you; _he_ knows everything. I say, Downie," said
Jennings, "come here for a moment, and enlighten us on a most
interesti