that they really may be nerved to meet him; ay, and to check him in his
course, had they that signal courage. For instance, Mrs. Elizabeth
Berry, a ripe and wholesome landlady of advertised lodgings, on the
borders of Kensington, noted, as she sat rocking her contemplative person
before the parlour fire this very March afternoon, a supernatural
tendency in that fire to burn all on one side: which signifies that a
wedding approaches the house. Why--who shall say? Omens are as
impassable as heroes. It may be because in these affairs the fire is
thought to be all on one side. Enough that the omen exists, and spoke
its solemn warning to the devout woman. Mrs. Berry, in her circle, was
known as a certificated lecturer against the snares of matrimony. Still
that was no reason why she should not like a wedding. Expectant,
therefore, she watched the one glowing cheek of Hymen, and with pleasing
tremours beheld a cab of many boxes draw up by her bit of garden, and a
gentleman emerge from it in the set of consulting an advertisement paper.
The gentleman required lodgings for a lady. Lodgings for a lady Mrs.
Berry could produce, and a very roseate smile for a gentleman; so much so
that Ripton forgot to ask about the terms, which made the landlady in
Mrs. Berry leap up to embrace him as the happy man. But her experienced
woman's eye checked her enthusiasm. He had not the air of a bridegroom:
he did not seem to have a weight on his chest, or an itch to twiddle
everything with his fingers. At any rate, he was not the bridegroom for
whom omens fly abroad. Promising to have all ready for the lady within
an hour, Mrs. Berry fortified him with her card, curtsied him back to his
cab, and floated him off on her smiles.

The remarkable vehicle which had woven this thread of intrigue through
London streets, now proceeded sedately to finish its operations. Ripton
was landed at a hotel in Westminster. Ere he was halfway up the stairs,
a door opened, and his old comrade in adventure rushed down. Richard