LITMIR.BIZ

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my hand, so thick and sharp that it cut through my glove. I wore my arm in a sling for a month afterwards.”

      “And what was the card?”

      “Oh, you need not look so arch. The old lady was not even a faithless duenna. It was an invitation to an assembly, or something of the kind, at a place, somewhere, as Theodore Hook or Mr. Croker would say, ‘between Mesopotamia and Russell Square.’”

      “Pray, Mr. Grey, is it true that all the houses in Russell Square are tenantless?”

      “Quite true; the Marquess of Tavistock has given up the county in consequence. A perfect shame, is it not? Let us write it up.”

      “An admirable plan! but we will take the houses first, at a pepper-corn rent.”

      “What a pity, Miss Manvers, the fashion has gone out of selling oneself to the devil.”

      “Good gracious, Mr. Grey!”

      “On my honour, I am quite serious. It does appear to me to be a very great pity. What a capital plan for younger brothers! It is a kind of thing I have been trying to do all my life, and never could succeed. I began at school with toasted cheese and a pitchfork; and since then I have invoked, with all the eloquence of Goethe, the evil one in the solitude of the Hartz, but without success. I think I should make an excellent bargain with him: of course I do not mean that ugly vulgar savage with a fiery tail. Oh, no! Satan himself for me, a perfect gentleman! Or Belial: Belial would be the most delightful. He is the fine genius of the Inferno, I imagine, the Beranger of Pandemonium.”

      “I really cannot listen to such nonsense one moment longer. What would you have if Belial were here?”

      “Let us see. Now, you shall act the spirit, and I, Vivian Grey. I wish we had a short-hand writer here to take down the Incantation Scene. We would send it to Arnold. Commençons: Spirit! I will have a fair castle.”

      The lady bowed.

      “I will have a palace in town.”

      The lady bowed.

      “I will have a fair wife. Why, Miss Manvers, you forget to bow!”

      “I really beg your pardon!”

      “Come, this is a novel way of making an offer, and, I hope, a successful one.”

      “Julia, my dear,” cried a voice in the veranda, “Julia, my dear, I want you to walk with me.”

      “Say you are engaged with the Marchioness,” whispered Vivian, with a low but distinct—voice; his eyes fixed on the table, and his lips not appearing to move.

      “Mamma, I am—”

      “I want you immediately and particularly, Julia,” cried Lady Louisa, in an earnest voice.

      “I am coming, I am coming. You see I must go.”

      CHAPTER X

      “Confusion on that old hag! Her eye looked evil on me, at the very moment! Although a pretty wife is really the destruction of a young man’s prospects, still, in the present case, the niece of my friend, my patron, high family, perfectly unexceptionable, &c. &c. &c. Such blue eyes! upon my honour, this must be an exception to the general rule,” Here a light step attracted his attention, and, on turning round, he found Mrs. Felix Lorraine at his elbow.

      “Oh! you are here, Mr. Grey, acting the solitaire in the park! I want your opinion about a passage in ‘Herman and Dorothea.’”

      “My opinion is always at your service; but if the passage is not perfectly clear to Mrs. Felix Lorraine, it will be perfectly obscure, I am convinced, to me.”

      “Ah! yes, of course. Oh, dear! after all my trouble, I have forgotten my book. How mortifying! Well, I will show it to you after dinner: adieu! and, by-the-bye, Mr. Grey, as I am here, I may as well advise you not to spoil all the Marquess’s timber, by carving a certain person’s name on his park trees. I think your plans in that quarter are admirable. I have been walking with Lady Louisa the whole morning, and you cannot think how I puffed you! Courage, Cavalier, and we shall soon be connected, not only in friendship, but in blood.”

      The next morning, at breakfast, Vivian was surprised to find that the Manvers party was suddenly about to leave the Castle. All were disconsolate at their departure: for there was to be a grand entertainment at Château Desir that very day, but particularly Mrs. Felix Lorraine and Mr. Vivian Grey. The sudden departure was accounted for by the arrival of “unexpected,” &c. &c. &c. There was no hope; the green post-chariot was at the door, a feeble promise of a speedy return; Julia’s eyes were filled with tears. Vivian was springing forward to press her hand, and bear her to the carriage, when Mrs. Felix Lorraine seized his arm, vowed she was going to faint, and, ere she could recover herself, or loosen her grasp, the Manvers were gone.

      CHAPTER XI

      The gloom which the parting had diffused over all countenances was quite dispelled when the Marquess entered.

      “Lady Carabas,” said he, “you must prepare for many visitors to-day. There are the Amershams, and Lord Alhambra, and Ernest Clay, and twenty other young heroes, who, duly informed that the Miss Courtowns were honouring us with their presence, are pouring in from all quarters; is it not so, Juliana?” gallantly asked the Marquess of Miss Courtown: “but who do you think is coming besides?”

      “Who, who?” exclaimed all.

      “Nay, you shall guess,” said the Peer.

      “The Duke of Waterloo?” guessed Cynthia Courtown, the romp.

      “Prince Hungary?” asked her sister Laura.

      “Is it a gentleman?” asked Mrs. Felix Lorraine.

      “No, no, you are all wrong, and all very stupid. It is Mrs. Million.”

      “Oh, how delightful!” said Cynthia.

      “Oh, how annoying!” said the Marchioness.

      “You need not look so agitated, my love,” said the Marquess; “I have written to Mrs. Million to say that we shall be most happy to see her; but as the castle is very full, she must not come with five carriages-and-four, as she did last year.”

      “And will Mrs. Million dine with us in the Hall, Marquess?” asked Cynthia Courtown.

      “Mrs. Million will do what she likes; I only know that I shall dine in the Hall, whatever happens, and whoever comes; and so, I suppose, will Miss Cynthia Courtown?”

      Vivian rode out alone, immediately after breakfast, to cure his melancholy by a gallop.

      Returning home, he intended to look in at a pretty farm-house, where lived one John Conyers, a great friend of Vivian’s. This man had, about a fortnight ago, been of essential service to our hero, when a vicious horse, which he was endeavouring to cure of some ugly tricks, had nearly terminated his mortal career.

      “Why are you crying so, my boy?” asked Vivian of a little Conyers, who was sobbing bitterly at the floor. He was answered only with desperate sobs.

      “Oh, ‘tis your honour,” said a decent-looking woman, who came out of the house; “I thought they had come back again.”

      “Come back again! why, what is the matter, dame?”

      “Oh! your honour, we’re in sad distress; there’s been a seizure this morning, and I’m mortal fear’d the good man’s beside himself.”

      “Good heavens! why did not you come to the Castle?”

      “Oh! your honour, we a’nt his Lordship’s tenants no longer; there’s been a change for Purley Mill, and now we’re Lord Mounteney’s people. John Conyers has been behind-hand since he had the fever, but Mr. Sedgwick always gave time: Lord Mounteney’s gem’man says the system’s bad, and so he’ll put an end to it; and so all’s gone, your honour; all’s gone, and I’m mortal fear’d the good man’s beside himself.”

      “And who is Lord Mounteney’s man of business?”

      “Mr.

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