But Cranstoun, apparently heedless of the laugh that
followed this--as indeed it did every--narration of the
anecdote, was not to be shaken from his equanimity. He
continued silent and unmoved, as if he had not heard a
word of the conclusion.

"Poor Cranstoun," exclaimed the joyous De Courcy, in a
strain of provoking banter, "what an unfortunate leap
that was of yours; and how delighted you must have felt
when you again stepped on terra firma."

"I don't wonder at his leap being unfortunate," observed
Middlemore, all eyes fixed upon him in expectation of
what was to follow, "for Julia D'Egville can affirm that,
while paying his court to her, he had not chosen a leap
year."

While all were as usual abusing the far strained pun, a
note was brought in by the head waiter and handed to the
punster. The officer read it attentively, and then, with
an air of seriousness which in him was remarkable, tossed
it across the table to Captain Molineux, who, since the
departure of Henry Grantham, had been sitting with his
arms folded, apparently buried in profound thought, and
taking no part either in the conversation or the laughter
which accompanied it. A faint smile passed over his
features, as, after having read, he returned, it with an
assentient nod to Middlemore. Shortly afterwards, availing
himself of the opportunity afforded by the introduction
of some fresh topic of conversation, he quitted his seat,