servant was still out when a knock at the door was heard, and in a
minute more Cesarini entered.

"Ah," said Lumley, assuming a melancholy air, "I am glad that you are
arrived; you will excuse my having written to you so unceremoniously.
You received my note--sit down, pray--and how are you? you look
delicate--can I offer you anything?"

"Wine," said Cesarini, laconically, "wine; your climate requires wine."

Here the servant entered with the penknife, and was ordered to bring
wine and sandwiches. Lumley then conversed lightly on different matters
till the wine appeared; he was rather surprised to observe Cesarini pour
out and drink off glass upon glass, with an evident craving for the
excitement. When he had satisfied himself, he turned his dark eyes to
Ferrers, and said, "You have news to communicate--I see it in your brow.
I am now ready to hear all."

"Well, then listen to me; you were right in your suspicions; jealousy is
ever a true diviner. I make no doubt Othello was quite right, and
Desdemona was no better than she should be. Maltravers has proposed to
my cousin; and been accepted."

Cesarini's complexion grew perfectly ghastly; his whole frame shook like
a leaf--for a moment he seemed paralysed.

"Curse him!" said he, at last, drawing a deep breath, and betwixt his
grinded teeth--"curse him, from the depths of the heart he has broken!"

"And after such a letter to you!--do you remember it?--here it is. He