Wyvil made no answer, but, walking to the other end of the room, threw
himself into a chair, and, covering his face with his hands, appeared
wrapped in thought. Lydyard took a seat beside him, and endeavoured to
engage him in conversation; but, finding his efforts fruitless, he
desisted.

"Something is wrong," observed Parravicin, to the major. "He has been
foiled in his attempt to carry off the girl. Sedley has won his wager,
and it is a heavy sum. Shall we resume our play?" he added, to Disbrowe.

"I have nothing more to lose," observed the young man, filling a large
goblet to the brim, and emptying it at a draught. "You are master of
every farthing I possess."

"Hum!" exclaimed Parravicin, taking up a pack of cards, and snapping
them between his finger and thumb. "You are married, Captain Disbrowe?"

"What if I am?" cried the young man, becoming suddenly pale; "what if I
am?" he repeated.

"I am told your wife is beautiful," replied Parravicin.

"Beautiful!" ejaculated Pillichody; "by the well-filled coffers of the
widow of Watling-street! she is an angel. Beautiful is not the word:
Mrs. Disbrowe is divine!"

"You have never seen her," said the young man, sternly.

"Ha!--fire and fury! my word doubted," cried the major, fiercely. "I