you no harm."

"She ain't making a match, surely?"

"Well, she seemed to know a tidy bit about it. She asked about George
Cooper, and Richmond the Black, and Tom Oliver, always comin' back to
you, and wantin' to know if you were not the pick of the bunch. _And_
trustworthy. That was the other point. Could she trust you? Lord,
Tom, if you was a fightin' archangel you could hardly live up to the
character that I've given you."

A drawer looked in from the bar. "If you please, Mr. Cribb, the lady's
carriage is back again."

The Champion laid down his long clay pipe. "This way, lad," said he,
plucking his young friend by the sleeve towards the side window. "Look
there, now! Saw you ever a more slap-up carriage? See, too, the pair of
bays--two hundred guineas apiece. Coachman, too, and footman--you'd find
'em hard to beat. There she is now, stepping out of it. Wait here, lad,
till I do the honours of my house."

Tom Cribb slipped off, and young Spring remained by the window, tapping
the glass nervously with his fingers, for he was a simple-minded country
lad with no knowledge of women, and many fears of the traps which await
the unwary in a great city. Many stories were afloat of pugilists who
had been taken up and cast aside again by wealthy ladies, even as the
gladiators were in decadent Rome. It was with some suspicion therefore,
and considerable inward trepidation, that he faced round as a tall
veiled figure swept into the room. He was much consoled, however, to
observe the bulky form of Tom Cribb immediately behind her as a proof
that the interview was not to be a private one. When the door was
closed, the lady very deliberately removed her gloves. Then with fingers
which glittered with diamonds she slowly rolled up and adjusted her
heavy veil. Finally, she turned her face upon Spring.

"Is this the man?" said she.

They stood looking at each other with mutual interest, which warmed
in both their faces into mutual admiration. What she saw was as fine a
figure of a young man as England could show, none the less attractive
for the restrained shyness of his manner and the blush which flushed his
cheeks. What he saw was a woman of thirty, tall, dark, queen-like, and
imperious, with a lovely face, every line and feature of which told of
pride and breed, a woman born to Courts, with the instinct of command
strong within her, and yet with all the softer woman's graces to temper
and conceal the firmness of her soul. To