"And," pursued Mr. Peacock, "if you knew how the Mr. Vivian you inquired
after loves you! When I told him, incidentally, how a young gentleman
had come behind the scenes to inquire after him, he made me describe
you, and then said, quite mournfully, 'If ever I sin what I hope to
become, how happy I shall be to shake that kind hand once more,'--very
words, sir, honor bright!

"'I think there's ne'er a man in Christendom
Can lesser hide his hate or love than he.'"

And if Mr. Vivian has some reason to keep himself concealed still; if
his fortune or ruin depend on your not divulging his secret for a
while,--I can't think you are the man he need fear. 'Pon my life,--

"'I wish I was as sure of a good dinner,'

as the Swan touchingly exclaims. I dare swear that was a wish often on
the Swan's lips in the privacy of his domestic life!"

My heart was softened, not by the pathos of the much profaned and
desecrated Swan, but by Mr. Peacock's unadorned repetition of Vivian's
words. I turned my face from the sharp eyes of my companion; the cab
now stopped at the foot of London Bridge.

I had no more to ask, yet still there was some uneasy curiosity in my
mind, which I could hardly define to myself, was it not jealousy?
Vivian so handsome and so daring,--he at least might see the great
heiress; Lady Ellinor perhaps thought of no danger there. But--I--I was
a lover still, and--nay, such thoughts were folly indeed!