"Oh! he has had a fit or two, since you saw him last."

"Poor old gentleman! let us drink his health. Do you know Lady Julia
Knighton?" asked Vivian of his neighbour. "This Hall is bearable to dine
in; but I once breakfasted here, and I never shall forget the ludicrous
effect produced by the sun through the oriel window. Such complexions!
Every one looked like a prize-fighter ten days after a battle. After
all, painted glass is a bore; I wish the Marquess would have it knocked
out, and have it plated."

"Knock out the painted glass!" said Mr. Boreall; "well, I must confess,
I cannot agree with you."

"I should have been extremely surprised if you could. If you do not
insult that man, Miss Courtown, in ten minutes I shall be no more. I
have already a nervous fever."

"May I have the honour of taking a glass of champagne with you, Mr.
Grey?" said Boreall.

"Mr. Grey, indeed!" muttered Vivian: "Sir, I never drink anything but
brandy."

"Allow me to give _you_ some champagne, Miss," resumed Boreall, as he
attacked the modest Miss Macdonald: "champagne, you know," continued he,
with a smile of agonising courtesy, "is quite the lady's wine."

"Cynthia Courtown," whispered Vivian with a sepulchral voice, "'tis all
over with me: I have been thinking what would come next. This is too
much: I am already dead. Have Boreall arrested; the chain of