"That's noble!--Now, Mrs. Poynsett, turn him out as soon as he has
eaten his dinner. We want any one who can keep up a respectable
kind of a row. I say, will you two do Ferdinand and Miranda playing
at chess? You look just like it."

"Must we go?" asked Frank, reluctantly; and there was something in
the expression of his face, a little paler than usual, that reminded
his mother that the young man had for the first time seen sudden and
violent death that day, and that though his present gladness was so
great, yet that he had gone through too much in body and mind for
the revels of the evening not either to jar, or to produce a
vehement reaction, if he were driven into them. So she answered by
pleading the eleven miles' walk; and the queen of the sports was
merciful, adding, "But I must be gone, or Terry will be getting up
his favourite tableau of the wounded men of Clontarf, or Rothesay,
or the Black Bull's Head, or some equally pleasing little incident."

"Is it going on well?" asked Mrs. Poynsett.

"Sweetly! Couldn't be better. They have all amalgamated and are in
the midst of the 'old family coach,' with Captain Duncombe telling
the story. He is quite up to the trick, and enjoys turning the
tables on his ladies."

"And Camilla?" asked Lenore, in a hesitating, anxious tone

"Oh! she's gone in for it. I think she is the springs! I heard her
ask where you were, and Charley told her; so you need not be afraid
to stay in peace, if you have a turn that way. Good-bye; you'd