ding a gold-tasselled trencher cap with one hand, and with the
other pointing to a diagram of Pons Asinorum. This likeness was taken
when he was a fellow-commoner at St. John's College, Cambridge, and
before the growth of that blue beard which was the ornament of his
manhood, and a part of which now formed a beautiful blue neck-chain for
his bereaved wife.

Sister Anne said the town-house was even more dismal than the
country-house, for there was pure air at the Hall, and it was pleasanter
to look out on a park than on a churchyard, however fine the monuments
might be. But the widow said she was a light-minded hussy, and persisted
as usual in her lamentations and mourning. The only male whom she would
admit within her doors was the parson of the parish, who read sermons to
her; and, as his reverence was at least seventy years old, Anne, though
she might be ever so much minded to fall in love, had no opportunity to
indulge her inclination; and the town-people, scandalous as they might
be, could not find a word to say against the _liaison_ of the venerable
man and the heart-stricken widow.

All other company she resolutely refused. When the players were in the
town, the poor manager, who came to beg her to bespeak a comedy, was
thrust out of the gates by the big butler. Though there were balls,
card-parties, and assemblies, Widow Bluebeard would never subscribe to
one of them; and even the officers, those all-conquering heroes who make
such ravages in ladies' hearts, and to whom all ladies' doors are
commonly open, could never get an entry into the widow's house. Captain
Whiskerfield strutted for three weeks up and down before her house, and
had not the least effect upon her. Captain O'Grady (of an Irish
regiment) attempted to bribe the servants, and one night actually scaled
the garden wall; but all that he got was his foot in a man-trap, not to
mention being dreadfully scarified by the broken glass; and so _he_
never made love any more. Finally, Captain Blackbeard, whose whiskers
vied in magnitude with those of the deceased Bluebeard himself, although
he attended church regularly every week,--he who had not darkened the
doors of a church for ten years before,--even Captain Blackbeard got
nothing by his piety; and the widow never once took her eyes off her
book to look at him. The barracks were in despair; and Captain
Whiskerfield's tailor, who had supplied him with new clothes in order to
win the widow's heart, ended b