who'd play him a game of 'spoiled five' "—whatever
that was "or drafts; ay, or, though it
was not his pride, a bit of backgammon."

"Done, for fifty pounds; double on the
gammon!" cried I.

"Fifty fiddlesticks!" cried he; "where
would you or I find as many shillings?"

"What do you mean, sir?" said I, angrily.
"Am I to suppose that you doubt my
competence to risk such a contemptible sum, or
is it to your own inability alone you vould
testify?"

A very acrimonious dispute followed, of which
I have no clear recollection. I only remember
how Hammond was out-and-out for the priest,
and Oxley too tipsy to take my part with any
efficiency. At last—how arranged I can't say—
peace was restored, and the next thing I can
recall was listening to Father Dyke giving a
long, and of course a most fabulous, history of
a ring that he wore on his second finger. It
was given by the Pretender, he said, to his
uncle, the celebrated Carmelite monk, Lawrence
O'Kelly, who for years had followed the young
prince's fortunes. It was an onyx, with the
letters C. E. S. engraved on it. Keldrum took
an immense fancy to it; he protested that everything
that attached to that unhappy family possessed
in his eyes an uncommon interest. "If
you have a fancy to take up Potts's wager," said
he, laughingly,  I'll give you fifty pounds for
your signet ring."

The priest demurred—Hammond interposed
—then, there was more discussion, now warm,
now jocose. Oxley tried to suggest something,
which we all laughed at. Keldrum placed the
backgammon board meanwhile, but I can give
no clear account of what ensued, though I
remember that the terms of our wager were
committed to writing by Hammond, and signed by
Father D. and myself, and in the conditions
there figured a certain ring, guaranteed to have
belonged to, and have been worn by, his Royal
Highness Charles Edward, and a cream-coloured
horse, equally guaranteed as the produce of a
Caucasian mare presented by the late Emperor
Nicholas to the present owner. The document
was witnessed by all three, Oxley's name written
in two letters, and a flourish.

After that, I played, and lost!

CHAPTER IV.

I CAN recal to this very hour the sensations
of headache and misery with which I awoke the
morning after this debauch. Racking pain it
was, with a sort of tremulous beating all through
the brain, as though a small engine had been set
to work there, and that piston, and boiler, and
connecting rod were all banging, fizzing, and
vibrating amid my fevered senses. I was,
besides, much puzzled to know where I was,
and how I had come there. Controversial
divinity, genealogy, horse-racing, the peerage,
and "double sixes" were dancing a wild
cotillion through my brain; and although a waiter
more than once cautiously obtruded his head
into the room, to see if I were asleep, and as
guardedly withdrew it again, I never had energy
to speak to him, but lay passive and still, waiting
till my mind might clear, and the cloud-fog
that obscured my faculties might be wafted
away.

At last—it was towards evening—the man,
possibly becoming alarmed at my protracted
lethargy, moved somewhat briskly through the
room, and with that amount of noise that showed
he meant to arouse me, disturbed chairs and
fire-irons indiscriminately.

"Is it late or early?" asked I, faintly.

"'Tis near five, sir, and a beautiful evening,"
said he, drawing nigh, with the air of one
disposed for colloquy.

I didn't exactly like to ask where I was, and
tried to ascertain the fact by a little circumlocution.
"I suppose," said I, yawning, "for all
that is to be done in a place like this, when up,
one might just as well stay abed, eh?"

"'Tis the snuggest place anyhow," said he,
with that peculiar disposition to agree with you
so characteristic in an Irish waiter.

"No society?" sighed I.

"No, indeed, sir."

"No theatre?"

"Devil a one, sir."

"No sport?"

"Yesterday was the last of the season, sir; and
signs on it, his lordship and the other gentlemen
was off immediately after breakfast."

"You mean Lord—Lord—" A mist was
clearing slowly away, but I could not yet see
clearly.

"Lord Keldrum, sir; a real gentleman every
inch of him."

"Oh yes! to be sure—a very old friend of
mine," muttered I. "And so he's gone, is
he?"

"Yes, sir; and the last word he said was
about your honour."

"About me—what was it?"

"Well, indeed, sir," replied the waiter, with
a hesitating and confused manner, "I didn't
rightly understand it; but as well as I could
catch the words, it was something about
hoping your honour had more of that wonderful
breed of horses the Emperor of Roossia gave
you."

"Oh yes! I understand," said I, stopping
him abruptly. "By the way, how is Blondel—
that is, my horse—this morning?"

"Well, he looked fresh and hearty, when he
went off this morning at daybreak—"

"What do you mean?" cried I, jumping up
in my bed. "Went off? where to?"

"—With Father Dyke on his back; and a neater
hand he couldn't wish over him. 'Tim,' says he
to the ostler,as he mounted, 'there's a five-shilling
piece for you, for hansel, for I won this baste
last night, and you must drink my health and
wish me luck with him.'"

I heard no more, but sinking back into the
bed, I covered my face with my hands,
overcome with shame and misery. All the mists
that had blurred my faculties had now been
swept clean away, and the whole history of the