ement, for he was very far from supposing
that his Lordship's memory was clear enough to retain the events of an
interview that occurred some months before.

"I never anticipated that it would cost you so dearly, my Lord," said
he, cautiously, and prepared to give his words any turn events might
warrant. For once, however, the ingenuity was wasted; Lord Kilgoff,
wearied and exhausted by the increased effort of his intellect, had
fallen back in his chair, and, with drooping lips and fallen jaw, sat
the very picture of helpless fatuity.

"So, then," said Linton, as on tiptoe he stole noiselessly away, "if
your memory was inopportune, it was, at least, very short-lived. And
now, adieu, my Lord, till we want you for another act of the drama."

CHAPTER IV. MORE KENNYFECK INTRIGUING

We 'll have you at our merry-making, too.

Honeymoon.

If we should appear, of late, to have forgotten some of those friends
with whom we first made our readers acquainted in this veracious
history, we beg to plead against any charge of caprice or neglect. The
cause is simply this: a story, like a stream, has one main current; and
he who would follow the broad river must eschew being led away by
every rivulet which may separate from the great flood to follow its own
vagrant fancy elsewhere. Now, the Kennyfecks had been meandering after
this fashion for some time back. The elder had commenced a very vigorous
flirtation with the dashing Captain Jennings, while the younger sister
was coyly dallying under the attentions of his brother hussar,--less,
be it remembered, with any direct intention of surrender, than with the
faint hope that Cashel, perceiving the siege, should think fit to rescue
the fortress; "Aunt Fanny" hovering near, as "an army of observation,"
and ready, like the Prussians in the last war, to take part with the
victorious side, whichever that might be.

And now, we ask in shame and sorrow, is it not humiliating to think,
that of a party of some thirty or more, met together to enjoy in
careless freedom the hospitality of a country house, all should have
been animated with the same spirit of intrigue,--each bent on his
own deep game, and, in some one guise or other of deceitfulness, each
following out some scheme of selfish advantage?

Some may say these things are forced and unnatural; that pleasure
proclaims a truce in the great war of life, where combatants lay down
their weapons, and mix like friends and