“Nonsense,” said Miss Maitland: “she will be sure to meet somebody. All England is on the Rhine at this time of the year; and, whether or no, is it for you to expose that child to familiarity with a person nobody knows, nor his family either? You are twenty-five years old; you know the world; you have as poor an opinion of the man as I have, or you would have set your own cap at him--you know you would--and you have let out things to me when you were off your guard. Fanny Dover, you are behaving wickedly; you are a false friend to that poor girl.” Upon this, lo! the pert Fanny, hitherto so ready with her answers, began to cry bitterly. The words really pricked her conscience, and to be scolded is one thing, to be severely and solemnly reproached is another; and before a man! The official woman-hater was melted in a moment by the saucy girl's tears. “There--there,” said he, kindly, “have a little mercy. Hang it all! Don't make a mountain of a mole-hill.” The official man-hater never moved a muscle. “It is no use her crying to _me:_ she must give me a _proof_ she is sorry. Fanny, if you are a respectable girl, and have any idea of being my heir, go you this moment and bring them home.” “Yes, aunt,” said Fanny, eagerly; and went off with wonderful alacrity. It was a very long apartment, full forty feet; and while Fanny bustled down it, Miss Maitland extended a skinny finger, like one of Macbeth's witches, and directed Vizard's eye to the receding figure so pointedly that he put up his spyglass the better to see the phenomenon. As Fanny skipped out and closed the door, Miss Maitland turned to Vizard, with lean finger still pointing after Fanny, and uttered a monosyllable: “LAME!” Vizard burst out laughing. “La fourbe!” said he. “Miss Maitland, accept my compliments; you possess the key to a sex no fellow can unlock. And, now I have found an interpreter, I begin to be interested in this little comedy. The first act is just over. There will be half an hour's wait till the simulatrix of infirmity comes running back with the pilgrims of the Rhine. Are they 'the pilgrims of the Rhine' or 'the pilgrims of Love?' Time will show. Play to recommence with a verbal encounter; you will be one against three; for all that, I don't envy the greater number.” “Three to one? No. Surely you will be on the right side for once. “Well, you see, I am the audience. We can't be all _dramatis personae,_ and no spectator. During the wait, I wonder whether the audience, having nothing better to do, may be permitted to smoke a cigar.” “So long a lucid interval is irksome, of course. Well, the balcony is your smoking-room. You will see them coming; please tap at my door the moment you do.” Half an hour elapsed, an hour, and the personages required to continue the comedy did not return.