of the cousin and the black cabinet—and of henry ashwoode's decisive interview with lady stukely.

"well, then," said ashwoode, a few days after the occurrences which have just been faithfully recorded, "it behoves me without loss of time to make provision for this infernal bond; until i see it burned to dust, i feel as if i stood in the dock. this sha'n't last long—my stars be thanked, one door of escape lies open to me, and through it i will pass; the sun shall not go down upon my uncertainty. to be sure, i shall be—but curse it, it can't be helped now; and let them laugh, and quiz, and sneer as they please, two-thirds of them would be but too glad to marry lady stukely with half her fortune, were she twice as old and twice as ugly—if, indeed, either were possible. pshaw! the laugh will subside in a week, and in the style in which i shall open, curse me, if half the world won't lie at my feet. give me but money—money—plenty of money, and though i be a paragon of absurdity and vice, the whole town will vote me a solomon and a saint; so let's have no more shivering by the brink, but plunge boldly in at once and have it over."

fortified with these reflections, sir henry ashwoode vaulted lightly into his saddle, and putting his horse into an easy canter, he found himself speedily at lady stukely's house in stephen's green. his servant held the rein and he dismounted, and, having obtained admission, summoned all his resolution, lightly mounted the stairs, and entered the handsome drawing-room. lady stukely was not there, but his cousin, emily copland, received him.

"lady betty is not visible, then?" inquired he, after a little chat upon indifferent subjects.

"i believe she is out shopping—indeed, you may be very certain she is not at home," replied emily, with a malicious smile; "her ladyship is always visible to you. now confess, have you ever had much cruelty or coldness to complain of at dear lady stukely's hands?"

ashwoode laughed, and perhaps for a moment appeared a little disconcerted.

"i do admit, then, as you insist on placing me in the confessional, that i have always found lady betty as kind and polite as i could have expected or hoped," rejoined ashwoode, assuming a grave and particularly proper air; "i were particularly ungrateful if i said otherwise."

"oh, ho! so her ladyship has actually succeeded in inspiring my platonic cousin with gratitude," continued emily, in the same tone, "and gratitude we all know is cupid's best disguise. alas, and alack-a-day, to what vile uses may we come at last—alas, my poor coz."

"nay, nay, emily," replied he, a little piqued, "you need not write my epitaph yet; i don't see exactly why you should pity me so enormously."

"haven't you confessed that you glow with gratitude to lady stukely?" rejoined she.

"nonsense! i said nothing about glowing; but what if i had?" answered he.

"then you acknowledge that you do glow! heaven help him, the man actually glows," ejaculated emily.

"pshaw! stuff, nonsense. emily, don't be a blockhead," said he, impatiently.

"oh! harry, harry, harry, don't deny it," continued she, shaking her head with intense solemnity, and holding up her fingers in a monitory manner—"you are then actually in love. oh, benedick, poor benedick! would thou hadst chosen some beatrice not quite so well stricken in years; but what of that?—the beauties of age, if less attractive to the eye of thoughtless folly than those of youth, are unquestionably more durable; time may rob the cheek of its bloom, but i defy him to rob it of its rouge; years—i might say centuries—have no power to blanche a wig or thin its flowing locks; and though the nymph be blind with age, what matters it if the swain be blind with love? i make no doubt you'll be fully as happy together as if she had twice as long to live."

ashwoode poked the fire and blew his nose violently, but nevertheless answered nothing.

"the brilliant blush of her cheek and the raven blackness of her wig," continued the incorrigible emily, "in close and striking contrast, will remind you, and i trust usefully, of that rouge et noir which has been your ruin all your days."

still ashwoode spoke not.

"the exquisite roundness of her ladyship's figure will remind you that flesh, if not exactly grass, is at least very little better than bran and buckram; and her smile will invariably suggest the great truth, that whenever you do not intend to bite it is better not to show your teeth, especially when they happen to be like her ladyship's; in short, you cannot look at her without feeling that in every particular, if rightly read, she supplied a moral lesson, so that in her presence every unruly passion of man's nature must entirely subside and sink to rest. yes, she will make you happy—eminently happy; every little attention, every caress, every fond glance she throws at you, will delightfully assure your affectionate spirit, as it wanders in memory back to the days of earliest childhood, that she will be to you all that your beloved grandmother could have been, had she been spared. oh! harry, harry, this will indeed be too much happiness."

another pause ensued, and emily approached sir henry as he stood sulkily by the mantelpiece, and laying her hand upon his arm, looked archly up into his face, while shaking her head she slowly said,—

"oh! love, love—oh! cupid, cupid, mischievous little boy, what hast thou done with my poor cousin's heart?

"''twas on a widow's jointure land

the archer, cupid, took his stand.'"

as she said this, she looked so unutterably mischievous and comical, that in spite of his vexation and all his efforts to the contrary, he burst into a long and hearty fit of laughter.

"emily," said he, at length, "you are absolutely incorrigible—gravity in your company is entirely out of the question; but listen to me seriously for one moment, if you can. i will tell you plainly how i am circumstanced, and you must promise me in return that you will not quiz me any more about the matter. but first," he added, cautiously, "let us guard against eavesdroppers."

he accordingly walked into the next room, which opened upon that in which they were, and proceeded to close the far door. before he had reached it, however, that in the other room opened, and lady stukely herself entered. the instant she appeared, emily copland by a gesture enjoined silence, nodded towards the door of the next room, from which ashwoode's voice, as he carelessly hummed an air, was audible; she then frowned, nodded, and pointed with vehement repetition toward a dark recess in the wall, made darker and more secure by the flanking projection of a huge, black, varnished cabinet. lady stukely looked puzzled, took a step in the direction of the post of concealment indicated by the girl, then looked puzzled, and hesitated again. more impatiently emily repeated her signal, and her ladyship, without any distinct reason, but with her curiosity all alive, glided behind the protecting cabinet, with all its army of china ornaments, into the recess, and there remained entirely concealed. she had hardly effected this movement, which the deep-piled carpet enabled her to do without noise, when ashwoode returned, closed the door of communication between the two rooms, and then shut that through which lady stukely had just entered, almost brushing against her as he did so, so close was their proximity. these precautions taken, he returned.

"now," said he, in a low and deliberate tone, "the plain facts of the case are just these. i am dipped over head and ears in debt—debts, too, of the most urgent kind—debts which threaten me with ruin. now, these must be paid—one way or another they must be met. and to effect this i have but one course—one expedient, and you have guessed it. no man knows better than i what lady stukely is. i can see all that is ridiculous and repulsive about her just as clearly as anybody else. she is old enough to be my grandmother, and ugly enough to be the devil's—and, moreover, painted and varnished over like a signboard. she may be a fool—she may be a termagant—she may be what you please—but—but she has money. she has been throwing herself into my arms this twelvemonth or more—and—but what the deuce is that?"

this interrogatory was caused by certain choking sounds which proceeded with fearful suddenness from the place of lady stukely's concealment, and which were instantaneously followed by the appearance of her ladyship in bodily presence. she opened her mouth, but gave utterance to nothing but a gasp—drew herself up with such portentous and swelling magnificence, that ashwoode almost expected to see her expand like the spectre of a magic-lantern until her head touched the ceiling. forward she came, in her progress sweeping a score of china ornaments from the cabinet, and strewing the whole floor with the crashing fragments of monkeys, monsters, and mandarins, breathless, choking, and almost black with rage, lady stukely advanced to ashwoode, who stood, for the first time in his life, bereft of every vestige of self-possession.

"painted! varnished!" she screamed hysterically, "ridiculous! repulsive! oh, heaven and earth! you—you preternatural monster!" with these words she uttered two piercing shrieks, and threw herself in strong hysterics into a chair, holding on her wig distractedly with one hand, for fear of accidents.

"don't—don't ring the bell," said she, with an abrupt accession of fortitude, observing emily copland approach the bell. "don't, i shall be better presently." and then, with another shriek, she opened afresh.

as the hysterics subsided, ashwoode began a little to recover his scattered wits, and observing that lady stukely had sunk back in extreme languor and exhaustion, with closed eyes, he ventured to approach the shrine of his outraged divinity.

"i feel—indeed i own, lady stukely," he said, hesitatingly, "i have much to explain. i ought to explain—yes, i ought. i will, lady stukely—and—and i can entirely satisfy—completely dispel——"

he was interrupted here; for lady stukely, starting bolt upright in the chair, exclaimed,—

"you wretch! you villain! you perjured, scheming, designing, lying, paltry, stupid, insignificant, outrageous——"

whether it was that her ladyship wanted words to supply a climax, or that hysterics are usually attended with such results, we cannot pretend to say, but certain it is that at this precise point the languishing, fashionable, die-away lady stukely actually spat in the young baronet's face.

ashwoode changed colour, as he promptly discharged the ridiculous but very necessary task of wiping his face. with difficulty he restrained himself under this provocation, but he did command himself so far as to say nothing. he turned on his heel and walked downstairs, muttering as he went,—

"an old painted devil!"

the cool air, as he passed out, speedily dissipated the confusion and excitement of the scene that had just passed, and all the consequences of his rupture with lady stukely rushed upon his mind with overwhelming and maddening force.

"you were right, perfectly right—he is a cheat—a trickster—a villain!" exclaimed lady stukely. "only to think of him! oh, heaven and earth!" and again she was seized with violent hysterics, in which state she was conducted up to her bedroom by emily copland, who had enjoyed the catastrophe with an intensity of relish which none but a female, and a mischievous one to boot, can know.

loud and repeated were lady stukely's thanksgivings for having escaped the snares of the designing young baronet, and warm and multiplied and grateful her acknowledgments to emily copland—to whom, however, from that time forth she cherished an intense dislike.