ncommonly, so I"--

"Yes, my dear Moreland," interrupted I, "but are you sure that you
please her?"

"Pshaw! Five times a hundred thousand dollars! I tell you what, my
lad, that's not to be met with every day."

"Fifty years old," replied I.

"Certainly, fifty years old, but stout and healthy; none of your
spindle-shanked dandies--your Stauntons"--

But Staunton smokes cigars, and not Dutch pipes."

"I give that up. For Miss Margaret's sake, I'll burn my nose and
mouth with those damned stumps of cigars."

"Drinks no whisky," continued I. "He is president of a temperance
society."

"The devil fly away with him!" growled Moreland; "I wouldn't give up
my whisky for all the girls in the world."

"If you don't, she'll always be fainting away," replied I, laughing.

"Ah! It's because I talked of the Monongahela that she began with her
hystericals, and went away for all the evening! That's where the wind
sits, is it? Well, you may depend I ain't to be done out of my grog
at any rate."

And he backed his assertion with an oath, swallowing off the contents
of his glass by way of a clincher. We sat joking and chatting till
past midnight during which time I flattered myself that I gave
evidence of considerable diplomatic talents. As we were returning
home, however, Richards doubted whether I had not driven the old boy
rather too hard

"No matter," replied I, "if I have only succeeded in ridding poor
Margaret of him."

Cool, calculating Richards shook his head.

"I don't know what may come of it," said he; "but I do not think you
are likely to find much gratitude for your interference."

The next day was taken up in arranging matters of business consequent
on the arrival of Richards. At least ten times I tried to go and see
Arthurine, but was always prevented by something or other; and it was
past tea-time when I at last got to the Bowsends' house. I found
Margaret in the drawing-room, deep in a new novel.

"Where is Arthurine?" I enquired.

"At the theatre, with mamma and Mr Moreland," was the answer.

"At the theatre!" repeated I in astonishment. They were playing Tom
and Jerry, a favourite piece with the enlightened Kentuckians. I had
seen the first scene or two at the New Orleans theatre, and had had
quite enough of it.

"That really _is_ sacrificing herself!" said I, considerably out of
humour.

"The noble girl!" exclaimed Margaret. "Mr Moreland came to tea, and
urged us so much to go"--

"That s