ry
morning, and knock at the ladies' cabin-doors, and ask how they felt
after a sea-sick night. Who doesn't know what they feel, without
knocking at their doors? Let them send for the doctor when they want
him. That was how I understood my duty; and there was the line of
conduct that lost me my place. Pass the wine. Talking of ladies, what
do you think of my wife? Did you ever see such distinguished manners
before? My dear fellow, I have taken a fancy to you. Shake hands. I'll
tell you another little anecdote. Where do you think my wife picked up
her fashionable airs and graces? Ho! ho! On the stage! The highest
branch of the profession, sir--a tragic actress. If you had seen her in
Lady Macbeth, Mrs. Vimpany would have made your flesh creep. Look at
me, and feast your eyes on a man who is above hypocritical objections
to the theatre. Haven't I proved it by marrying an actress? But we
don't mention it here. The savages in this beastly place wouldn't
employ me, if they knew I had married a stage-player. Hullo! The
bottle's empty again. Ha! here's another bottle, full. I love a man who
has always got a full bottle to offer his friend. Shake hands. I say,
Mountjoy, tell me on your sacred word of honour, can you keep a secret?
My wife's secret, sir! Stop! let me look at you again. I thought I saw
you smile. If a man smiles at me, when I am opening my whole heart to
him, by the living jingo, I would knock that man down at his own table!
What? you didn't smile? I apologise. Your hand again; I drink your
health in your own good wine. Where was I? What was I talking about?"

Mountjoy carefully humoured his interesting guest.

"You were about to honour me," he said, "by taking me into your
confidence." Mr. Vimpany stared in tipsy bewilderment. Mountjoy tried
again in plainer language: "You were going to tell me a secret."

This time, the doctor grasped the idea. He looked round cunningly to
the door. "Any eavesdroppers?" he asked. "Hush! Whisper--this is
serious--whisper! What was it I was going to tell you? What was the
secret, old boy?"

Mountjoy answered a little too readily: "I think it related to Mrs.
Vimpany."

Mrs. Vimpany's husband threw himself back in his chair, snatched a
dirty handkerchief out of his pocket, and began to cry.

"Here's a false friend!" the creature whimpered. "Asks me to dinner,
and takes advantage of my dependent situation to insult my wife. The
loveliest of women, the sweetest of women, the i